Dani lifted the photograph from the pile on the kitchen table. “Who is this?”
Her sister turned from the stove. “The old woman? It says ‘Grandma Sally’ on the back in Mom’s handwriting.”
“There isn’t a Sally on either side of the family,” Dani said.
Kari lifted a lid. “I know. It doesn’t make sense.”
Their widowed father came into the room, his walker bumping the tile floor.
“Dad, who’s Grandma Sally?” Dani asked.
“That was someone your mother knew when she was a teenager.” He eased himself into a chair. “She helped her through a rough patch when your Mom ran away from home.”
“Mom ran away from home?” Dani asked. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“She didn’t talk about it,” he said. “She didn’t want to remember giving up that baby boy.”
The two women stared at him.
“Are you telling me we have a brother?” Kari demanded.
Loretta Miles Tollefson © 2014