For forty years, I lived with an unanswered question: why did my twin sister leave and never come back? Then my granddaughter brought home something I hadn’t seen since 1986. I thought it would explain Laura’s disappearance but instead it forced me to question everything my family had told me.
The plate slipped out of my hand before I realized I’d stopped holding it.
It shattered across the kitchen floor.
“Grandma!”
My eight-year-old granddaughter, Sophie, jumped backward.
Cream-colored yarn. A huge yellow sunflower and one brown petal.
“Grandma!”
“Take it off.”
Sophie blinked.
“What?”
“Sweetheart, please. Take the sweater off.”
Her smile disappeared.
“But Dolly gave it to me.”
“Take it off.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who’s Dolly?”
“Our new cleaning lady at school.”
I crouched beside her.
“Did Dolly ask you to go anywhere or keep this secret?”
“Who’s Dolly?”
“No. She gave it to me in the hallway because I was cold. My teacher was right there.”
That helped.
Sophie pulled off the sweater.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“No, honey.”
I turned the collar over.
“Did I do something wrong?”
There, sewn in faded red thread, were two initials.
L.M.
My hands started shaking.
