It was a
letter.
Not from Silas.
From Eleanor Ashford.
Rosalie recognized her mother’s handwriting instantly.
Her knees weakened.
The letter had been written twelve years ago.
One year before Eleanor died.
Gideon watched as Rosalie unfolded it.
Dear Mr.
Rook,
You do not know me well, though I remember you as a boy.
There are matters regarding your injury that I have carried too long in silence.
If anything should happen to me before I can put them right, I pray you will remember my daughter Rosalie.
She is not responsible for the sins of her family.
Someday she may need a friend more than she needs the truth.
Forgive my cowardice.
Eleanor Ashford
Rosalie sat down.
“My mother knew.”
Gideon could not hear her.
Perhaps that was merciful.
She continued reading.
There was nothing more.
No explanation.
No confession.
Only those few terrible lines.
Gideon wrote:
She sent it to my
