“You’re lying.”
“I wish I was.”
“If you were her brother,” I said, my voice rising, “why did she make you live outside?”
Victor flinched.
Before he could answer, Mrs. Bell spoke.
“Because Mark scared her.”
I turned to her.
“Scared her how?”
“He told Stephanie people would call her unfit if she let Victor near you. She was poor, raising a child alone, and terrified.”
Victor closed the locket.
“She kept me close. That was all she believed she could risk. I wasn’t easy to help, Fiona. But your mother never stopped trying.”
My mind immediately returned to Mom’s hospital room.
“The blue box,” I whispered.
Victor looked up.
“She told you?”
“She said not to let Mark touch it.”
Mrs. Bell pointed toward the house.
“Then stop standing here.”
—
I rushed inside and tore through Mom’s closet until I found the blue box hidden beneath old blankets.
My name was written across the lid.
Inside were photographs, letters, and envelopes.
The first picture showed Mom as a little girl standing beside Victor. Her knees were scraped. His lip was split.
On the back, in Mom’s handwriting, were the words:
“Victor walked me home again.”
I opened the letter addressed to me.
“Fiona,
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