“Gracie,” Bridget said tenderly, “you mentioned your mother spoke of another child. Do you know who she was talking about?”

Gracie looked up at her father with trusting, wide eyes. “I don’t know who she was, but sometimes Mom cries in the bathroom and talks to Grandma about her,” she whispered.

“She says that because of that girl, she had to get married way too young, and that she lost her college scholarship and her freedom. I used to think she meant me.

But once I heard her say a different name.”

Sawyer felt his hands turn cold as ice. “What was the name she used?”

Gracie closed her eyes, trying to focus on the memory. “Fernanda,” she finally said.