Uh-oh, I think, glancing at the police officer. What have I done?

“They even took my sweet mother’s diamond ring, which I’d given to your mom. It’s a tiny stone, but it was big to me for what it meant to me to have it.”

What? That was actually a diamond? And I buried it in the backyard? Oh boy . . .

“Um . . .” I say. “Grammy?”

“Yes, honey bunch?”

“We weren’t robbed.”

“Now, baby, I know it’s hard to accept, and I—”

I interrupt. “No, Grammy. Listen. I’m . . . I’m so sorry! I didn’t even think—”

The police officer steps forward. “Do you know who took the items, miss?”

I turn. “Yes. It was me.”

Grammy is on her feet. “You? That doesn’t make sense. Why in tarnation would you take things that already belong to you?”

“I’m sorry, Grammy. I just wanted to protect them. I was afraid you would sell them if we needed money. And I have lost so much. Well, I wanted those things from my mom and Papa to remind me of them. Just to have. Something of theirs that is . . . just mine . . . which is terrible, I know. I’m so sorry.”

She looks relieved but embarrassed.

“Grammy, I’d never hurt our stuff. It wasn’t like that. I just wanted to keep everything safe.”

Grammy laughs, which shocks me. “Well, that’s good news, I guess.”

“Good news?” Ronan asks.

“Well, the child cares about her family. I can’t slight her for that.”

I am so relieved.

The officer has folded his pad and put it in his pocket. “Well, I guess I’ll head out, then. Seems that everything is in order.”

“Thank you, Officer,” Grammy says. “I’m so sorry to have called you out here for nothing.”

“No problem, ma’am.” And he is gone.

I stand there. Waiting for her question that I’m sure is coming. “So where are our things, then? In your room?”

“Oh . . . um . . . no.”

“Well, where, then?”

“I buried it all in a jar in the backyard.”

“A jar . . . in the yard?”

“I know,” I say. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” And it all comes out of me like water over a clogged gutter. “You say that you can’t look at their things because it makes you too sad to remember and I know that we need money for the car and the furnace that spews the soot but I was so afraid that you would sell their things and I just . . . I just couldn’t let go of the few things we have left of theirs. And I feel terrible, Grammy. I’m so sorry. I know the things hurt you. But for me, I guess that I feel different than you when I see Papa’s things. Or even my momma’s things, even though I don’t know her. Holding the things Papa Joseph loved makes me miss him but also happy that he was my papa Joseph.”