softly.
He stopped mid-joke. The smile fell from his face the second he saw me. He handed a toy truck to a nurse, crossed the hallway, and pulled me toward a quiet corner near the family lounge. He yanked off the red nose.
“Meryl. What are you doing here?”
“I should be asking you that.”
His eyes moved to my hand. He saw the letter. Owen’s handwriting. continue reading …
