the beginning.
“Mom,” Caleb said from the doorway, “please don’t be angry with us.”
I turned toward my sons.
They looked frightened.
Nothing about them had changed.
They were still my boys.
“I’m not angry with you,” I said. “I just don’t know what I’m feeling.”
I picked up my phone.
My hands were shaking almost as badly as they had the morning I discovered the basket.
I called Raymond.
He answered almost immediately.
“Kim.”
From the way he said my name, I knew he understood.
I wanted to scream.
