Chapter 10: March Ninth

Ingrid slid the first page across the table, and my name was at the top of it.

It was a handwritten letter, on thin blue paper, in a looping hand I knew from birthday cards.

"This is from Gran," I said.

"She wrote it three weeks before she died."

"Why didn't anyone give me this?"

"Read it first," Ingrid said.

I read it aloud, because my voice was the only thing that would hold the paper still.

"Dear Hanne.

"You are twelve, and you are the one in the family nobody looks at.

"I have watched you since you could walk.

"You say please when you want something, and you apologize when you get it.

"They tell the middle child she is the strong one, and the strong one doesn't need help.

"I think that is what people say when they don't want to give help.

"So I am looking at you now.

"I have set aside money for you and only you, to be yours when you turn twenty-one.

"It is for school, for a home, for a start of your own.

"Your father will look after it until then, because he is my son and I trust him.

"Do not let anyone tell you that you haven't earned it.

"All my love, Gran."

My eyes were wet, and I didn't wipe them.

Dylan had gone to the window and stood looking at the dark yard.

I thought he was giving us room.

"How much?" I asked.

"Read the second page."

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