Still, I heard it.
“Thank God,” my father said.
“The twins are alive too.”
“Thank God,” he repeated.
This time there was no hesitation.
“Where are you?”
“At home. I couldn’t sit in that hospital. Too many memories.”
My mother had been taken to that same hospital after they recovered her body.
My father had identified her.
I gripped the phone.
“Dad, did Rosie say anything strange to you recently?”
Ben shook his head sharply.
My father remained quiet.
“Strange in what way?”
“About Mom.”
The silence lengthened.
Then he sighed.
“Claire, your sister has been under enormous stress. Pregnancy can make anyone emotional, and Rosie sometimes becomes fixed on ideas she doesn’t fully understand.”
A familiar anger rose in me.
Rosie understood far more than people gave her credit for. She always had.
“What idea?”
“I don’t know. You’re the one asking.”
His answer was too smooth.
I looked at the letter.
“Did she accuse you of something?”
“Has Ben been talking to you?”
Ben’s eyes narrowed.
“Why would Ben talk to me?”
“Because he’s been filling Rosie’s head with nonsense for months.”
My heart began pounding.
