“What do you mean?”
“The woman I met isn’t the mother I spent my life hating.”
Gladys suddenly called from the bedroom.
“Kyle? I can’t find my little boy.”
Mia stepped beside her.
“He’s safe, Grandma. He’s right here.”
Kyle knelt in front of his mother.
“I’m here.”
Gladys held his face between her trembling hands.
Then she whispered, “They told me you were better off without me.”
Kyle closed his eyes.
Gladys looked around the room again.
“But where is my little boy? He’s only six.”
Kyle rested his forehead against the closed bedroom door after she fell asleep.
His shoulders began to shake.
I had never seen my husband cry before.
“How do I keep hating her,” he whispered, “when she apologized before she even understood who I was?”
PART 2: THE LETTERS THAT NEVER ARRIVED
The next morning, Kyle and I visited the assisted-living center where Gladys had stayed before wandering away.
