“Did she know she would not get to read me stories?”

I sat down beside her.

The question deserved more than a comforting guess.

“She wanted you to know her.

She wrote to me so I could tell you the truth when I had proof.”

“Why didn’t she just come here?”

I took the song sheet from beneath her knee and laid it flat.

“I do not know every part of what happened, sweetheart.