“After that, I grew hard. I convinced myself that real love doesn’t exist and all men are pigs. But it was a lie. Real love does exist. You and McKale had it. It just didn’t exist for me.”

Pamela was quiet for a long time. Finally she said, “At least something good came out of my last marriage.” She reached into her purse and brought out her cell phone. She pushed a key, then held the phone up for me to see. On the screen was a picture of a young lady maybe sixteen or seventeen years of age. She was pretty, with big brown eyes, long brown hair, and freckles. She looked a lot like McKale did at that age.

“McKale has a sister?” I asked.

Pamela nodded. “Her name is Hadley.”

I took the phone and stared. “She looks just like her.” I handed back the phone. “What was it like when she was born?”

“It was the way it should have been. The way it should have been for McKale.”

“Was Hadley at the funeral?”

“No. She didn’t even know about McKale. I thought it would be too confusing to her. But after the funeral, I told her.”

“How did she respond?”

“She wasn’t as surprised as I thought she’d be. She said she knew I had had another baby. I don’t know how she knew that. But she thought I had given her up for adoption or aborted her. She was really upset that I hadn’t told her about McKale. She had always wanted a sister.”

“I can’t believe McKale has a sister.” At that moment there were a lot of different emotions swimming in my head, but anger wasn’t one of them. My rage for her was gone—I just wasn’t sure what had replaced it. Pity? Understanding? Maybe even sympathy. After a moment I said, “What do you want from me?”

She looked down at the table for a long time. When she finally looked up again her eyes were filled with tears. “Grace,” she said softly.

“Grace?” I frowned. “Grace isn’t mine to give. The one who needs to forgive you is gone.”

“I just thought …” She exhaled. “When I saw you at the funeral … when I met you, I knew that you and McKale were one. I thought—I felt—that if you could find a way to forgive me then it would be the same as McKale forgiving me. And maybe I could find peace.” She looked into my eyes. “And maybe you could too.”

“What makes you think I don’t have peace?” I asked.

“Because you can’t hate and have peace.”

I thought over her words. When I finally spoke I shook my head. “I don’t know, Pamela.”