“Kids, we’re just going to sit by the benches over there. Stay here where we can see you.”
Every instinct warned me not to trust her. But I needed the truth.
“If you do anything suspicious,” I warned, “I’ll go to the police.”
“You won’t like what you hear.”
“I already don’t.”
We sat on the bench. Her hands were shaking.
“Your labor was traumatic. You lost a lot of blood. There were complications.”
“I know that. I lived it.”
She swallowed. “The second baby wasn’t stillborn.”
The world tilted.
“What?”
