I had never seen my husband cry.
Until that night.
“She looked at me,” he whispered, “and apologized before she even knew who I was.”
His voice broke.
“How do you hate someone after that?”
Neither of us spoke until we reached the kitchen.
Mia poured three mugs of tea.
“I’ll go upstairs,” she said.
I caught her hand.
“No.”
She looked surprised.
“I want you here.”
She nodded and sat beside me.
Kyle wrapped both hands around his mug without drinking.
“The police found her four days ago,” he began. “She’d wandered into a grocery store parking lot. She couldn’t remember her address.”
“They found your number?”
“They found something in her purse with an old disconnected number. The police traced it back to me.”
“Why yours?”
“I don’t know.”
“You never met her since she left.
“I hadn’t.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“When they asked if I knew Gladys, I almost hung up.”
“But they confirmed your identity.”
He nodded.
“They asked if I could come.”
“And?”
“I did.”
He looked toward the hallway.
“She looked at me and said, ‘Kyle?’”
His voice cracked.
“Then she hugged me.”
I reached across the table and squeezed his hand.
“You should have called me.”
“I know.”
“I would have come home.”
“I didn’t even know what to tell you.”
Silence settled between us.
Finally, I asked the question that had been growing louder in my mind.
“If your mother didn’t leave… what happened?”
Kyle stared into his tea.
“I’ve spent four days asking the same thing.”
The next morning, we visited the assisted living center where Gladys had been staying before she wandered away.
The director greeted us with a tired smile.
“I’m Linda.”
She led us into her office.
“I’m sorry you had to meet under these circumstances.”
Kyle leaned forward.
“I need answers.”
“So do I.”
She opened a thick file.
“Your mother arrived here three years ago.”
Kyle frowned.
“Who admitted her?”
“A man named Robert.”
“My father.”
Linda nodded.
“He visited for the first few months.”
“And then?”
