interpreting every headache, bruise, and swollen gland in her remaining children as cancer.
After Rebecca died, Daniel spent years living inside somebody else’s terror.
He’d never told me how bad it had been.
When Lily showed him the spot, he said his first thought wasn’t even rational.
It was:
If I tell Maggie before I know anything, I might do to her what Mom did to all of us.
“So you decided for me.”
He nodded.
“Yes.”
“And involved Lily in keeping it secret.”
“Yes.”
“That’s not protection, Daniel.”
“I know that now.”
I looked at our daughter.
She was still crying.
I realized something else.
“Why did you stop eating dessert?”
Lily touched her cheek.
“Sweet stuff makes it sting.”
That explained it.
No dark mystery.
No secret punishment.
Just a child with a sore place in her mouth.
But that didn’t make the secrecy harmless.
I took Lily
