Then a woman walked into view.
My grandmother.
Evelyn Andrews.
Older than I remembered.
Smaller.
But unmistakably her.
She sat in front of the camera and adjusted a stack of papers.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she looked directly into the lens.
“Charlotte.”
My breath stopped.
It felt as if she were speaking across time.
“If you are seeing this, then I was unable to tell you the truth myself.”
Her hands folded together.
“I am sorry.”
A tear slipped down my cheek before I even understood why.
“I know you will wonder why I waited. Why I allowed certain things to happen. Why I trusted silence when honesty may have protected you sooner.”
She looked down.
“The answer is complicated.”
The video paused briefly.
A shadow crossed the room.
Then she continued.
“Garrett Andrews is not the man he appears to be.”
I almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
