This morning, Noah met me outside Grandma’s house. He looked like he hadn’t slept either. Grandma Ruth was sitting on the steps in her gray coat, rosary in her hands, and when she saw us, her expression crumpled.
“Eric? Noah?” she whispered.
“Grandma, we need you to tell us the truth,” I said. “About our mother.”
“M-Mother?”
“Yes. Our mom, Elena.”
Grandma’s hands trembled around the beads. “You found out?”
“The truth can’t stay hidden forever,” I replied.
“So Clara lied.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Grandma Ruth invited us inside and finally spoke. “Elena was sick. Cancer. She begged Clara to take you boys for a few months while she started treatment. Then, while driving back from one of her appointments, her car went off the bridge during a storm. They never found her body in the river.”
“So Clara lied,” Noah whispered.
“Clara told everyone Elena ran away,” Grandma Ruth replied. “Said she’d faked her accident to start over. Clara took the guardianship money. I should’ve spoken. God forgive me, I should’ve spoken.”
I held her hand. “Come with us. Please. Just sit in the car while we talk to her.”
Grandma nodded slowly, as if she had been waiting 20 years for someone to ask.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that if Josh had left anything behind, it would be there.
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