Chapter 2

The bus pulled into town, and the trees lining the road had grown thicker over the years, but nothing else seemed to have changed.

I didn't go straight to the village. Instead, I checked into a motel on the main road. The room was cheap, and the window didn't shut all the way, so the wind crept in through the cracks.

I unzipped my suitcase and found the old coat folded neatly at the bottom. It was a floral print with vintage buttons, and the collar had frayed from years of wear. I ran my fingers over it for a moment, then put it back.

My phone rang. It wasn't John's number.

"Lila? It's Helen." It was Ivan's wife. Her voice was three times warmer than Susan's had been on the phone.

She said, "I heard you're back! Ivan wanted me to ask where you're staying so we can come pick you up."

Twenty years of silence, and now she was offering to pick me up. The words felt colder than the winter wind outside.

I replied, "No, thanks. I'll get there on my own."

"Okay, then we'll see you at the notary's office tomorrow." She paused. "Lila, Susan might say some things that are hard to hear. Don't take it to heart."

I hung up and stood by the motel window, staring out toward the village in the distance.

Twenty years had passed.

When my daughter Lily was born, I called John. "Lily's here. Seven pounds, healthy. We're both fine."

Two seconds of silence on the other end.

John said, "You're not part of the Carter family."

Then he hung up.

Mark had stood outside the delivery room all night, and his shoes were soaked through by morning.

I spent the recovery weeks on my own while he worked at the auto shop during the day and came home to cook dinner every night.

We couldn't afford much, so he'd buy soup bones and stretch one batch into two meals.

Three years ago, my mother passed away, and no one in the family told me. I found out from an old neighbor back home who had posted on Facebook.

There was a photo of the memorial, and her name was written across the top. [Rest In Peace, Grace.]

I bought a ticket home that same night, but by the time I arrived, the grave had already been sealed. The fresh dirt was still wet.

I knelt before it and couldn't say a word.

John and Susan stood watching me from a distance, but neither of them came over.

Susan leaned toward the person next to her and said something.

Her voice was low, but I heard every word. "She's been gone twenty years. Who's she crying for?"

I didn't turn around.

I left that afternoon.

Then there was the time Mark ended up in the hospital with a herniated disc. He needed surgery, and the bill came to eleven thousand dollars. I went through every card we had and was still ten thousand short.

I called Susan. "Susan, can you lend me ten thousand for the surgery?"

She said, "Oh, Lila. You know we just renovated the storefront. Money's tight right now."

"I'll pay you back within a year."

"It's not about the money. John made it clear when you left. You go your way, and we go ours."

Then she hung up.

That night, I sold my wedding ring. It was only worth a hundred dollars, but I combined it with the seven thousand I borrowed from coworkers and barely scraped together enough.

Lily was ten that year. On Christmas morning, she looked up at me and asked, "Mom, how come all the other kids go to their grandparents' house and we don't?"

"Grandma's house is far away."

"How far?"

I smiled at her. "Very far." So far that twenty years of walking still hadn't brought me back.

Now I sat on the stiff mattress in a motel room, staring at the streetlights outside the window.

Tomorrow I would see them all again.

John, Susan, Ivan, Helen, and a whole house full of Carter relatives.

Twenty years ago, they watched my name get scratched off the family Bible, and not one of them said a word.