This was Walter’s way, and perhaps it always had been. His bright and vivid charm had hidden a darker side, a need to sneak off for quick and furtive desire, a desire that burned and damaged. Colleen had had no choice but to see the truth in stark clarity that wedding day, but Hallie, she must have been living in the shadow lands where the truth was as elusive as a ghost. A rush of tenderness washed over Colleen and it was for her sister, for the exhausting futility of living in denial while clinging to an illusion.

Full of wonder at these new insights, Colleen began to feel the first inklings of what felt like gratitude. It was not she who must face Walter’s excuses while protecting two young children and figuring out a way to keep the family together.

She had lost what she’d believed was the love of her life on her wedding day; but she’d also been saved. She was not only grateful but also thrilled that she hadn’t ended up with Walter.

What if someone had come to her at some point and said, “Look, here is what you escaped”? Would she have opened her heart again? Forgiven? Moved on? But no one had done that. Why hadn’t she trusted life enough to know it was true?

If this memoir was to be written, she would have to understand the mother who was not her mother, and the woman who had given Colleen life while losing her own. Again she focused on her work. After what seemed like just a little while of writing and taking notes, she was stunned to look up and see that hours had passed.

After a few hours, she threw the books in her bag, along with her notebook, and hustled back to May River, feeling slightly lighter and significantly clearer. The way she’d happily lost track of time like that reminded her of when she was a young child and she and Hallie had played jacks in the tree house or sat in the corner of that same bookshop poring over the comic books their mother wouldn’t let them buy.

Once home, Colleen came up short as she entered the living room. Stacked against the walls and piled four high in the middle of the room were brown corrugated boxes that had once held liquor and beer.

“It looks like we stole all the loot from the pub,” she said.

Hallie and Shane stood next to the boxes, sweating in the August heat. Rosie and Sadie ran around in the playground maze, stumbling and laughing, their voices high in frantic need to ignore the reason they were actually there.

As Shane wiped the sweat from his brow with a blue dish towel, their dad’s voice came from behind Colleen. “Hallie is moving in.”