I picked up the locket.
Julian nodded, his eyes wet. “I understand.”
She kept holding his hand, but her voice did not soften. “I love you, but I won’t start our marriage by pretending a three-month lie didn’t matter. And I won’t ask my mother to smile for wedding photos while she’s grieving a truth she should have had forty years ago.”
I looked at him. “You should have told us sooner.”
“I know.”
“But Ruth’s choices aren’t yours to carry.”
“You should have told us sooner.
***
My mother did not come with us. For the first time, no one asked why.
Two weeks later, Julian drove us to the cemetery where Leo was buried. I placed the locket against the grass.
“Hi, Leo,” I whispered. “I know now.”
When we got home, I set our prom photo on the mantel.
