Chapter
Eleven

I stared at the envelope for several seconds, almost afraid to open it.

“Don’t be silly, Sarah,” I said to myself. “It’s probably a copy of her will.”

I finally pulled open the seal and removed the folded papers inside. As I suspected, it was an informal will. She must have written this before the will she drafted with her attorney. There weren’t any surprises. Basically, she left everything she owned to me, including Cicely. I folded the paper and put it back into the envelope. Then I opened another folded sheet of paper. It was a letter.

Dear Sarah,

I’m writing this after meeting you in Sanctuary today. What a wonderful day it was! Finding my sister again is the culmination of a dream. Sometimes I wondered if I’d ever see you again. But dreams can come true, I guess.

I don’t expect to die for a long time, but when I do, I want you to know how much I love you and how much I’ve missed you. I also want you to know how sorry I am for allowing us to be separated. I know I was a child when it happened, but I was older than you. Maybe there would have been a way to keep us together. Perhaps I failed you. If so, I hope you’ll forgive me. If it helps any, I want you to know that I tried many times to find you. My adoptive parents tried too, but there just wasn’t a trace of you until we ran into someone who knew Janet. I’m so glad you two found each other. She’s filled such a need in your life. Maybe she’s not family by blood, but she’s family through love. I look forward to getting to know her better.

Right now, I feel so hopeful about the future. Cicely and I haven’t had anyone since Garret passed away and we had to put Betty in the care center. Betty doesn’t remember me anymore, so I don’t go to see her very often. To find my sister was a miracle. I just wanted you to know how important you are. I’m already planning things for the three of us to do. Vacations to Branson, Nashville, maybe a trip to Disney World? We’ll have so much fun!

And, Sarah, thank you for not acting shocked when I introduced you to Cicely. I’m sure you wondered about her birth father. I made a mistake, Sarah. Got involved with a man who made me think he loved me. But I was wrong. He’s not in my life anymore. In fact, he doesn’t even know about Cicely, and he never will. Although falling in love with him was a mistake, if I had a choice, I’d do it all over again just to have Cicely. I know that sounds wrong, but she is the light of my life. God forgave me for my error of judgment. Instead of giving me guilt and condemnation, He gave me forgiveness. He gave me Cicely. I’m so grateful to Him for all my blessings.

For the first time since Mom and Dad died, my joy is full because I’ve finally found my beloved sister.

I love you so much,
Hannah

It wasn’t until my tears splashed on the paper that I realized I was sobbing. What a wonderful gift Hannah had given me. My sorrow over her death left me grieving her shortened life. But at least now I knew that until recently she was happy, and that she had been reconciled to God. I wondered why she’d never mailed this letter. I’d probably never know, but I was grateful to find it now.

I couldn’t help but compare this hopeful letter to the other one Hannah sent me. In a year’s time, she’d gone from being upbeat and looking forward to the future to being so scared she’d planned to take Cicely and run away. What could have happened during that year to bring about such a change?

I picked up the scattered papers and repacked them. Then I carried the boxes back to the basement. There was still a stack of loose papers and one more envelope, but they didn’t look like the file I was searching for. Where could it be? I gathered the remaining papers together, carried them upstairs to my room, and put them on the top shelf in my closet, intending to go through them later. After reading Hannah’s letter, I needed a break. I noticed my hands shaking as I closed the closet door.

I remembered what Paul had said about Hannah’s phone, so I retrieved her purse from the back of my closet and sat down on the bed. I’d gone through it once, but I’d been so upset maybe I’d missed something. After dumping it out and going through the contents again, there was still no cell phone.

I picked up the purse, intending to put the things back that I’d removed, but somehow it didn’t feel right. It was too heavy. That’s when I noticed pockets on the inside. I hadn’t seen them the first time because they were made with the same material as the lining of the purse. One pocket had lipstick, and another had a small phone book. Hoping it would be helpful, I pulled it out and put it aside. Then I dug into the last pocket and was rewarded with something smooth and hard. I pulled it out. Sure enough, it was a cell phone. I looked it over carefully. I had friends with cell phones and had a general idea how they worked, but I didn’t understand the difference between smartphones, iPhones, and regular cell phones. This phone looked different from what I was used to. I was afraid I’d accidentally erase something important, so I decided it was best to leave it for Paul. Could there possibly be something on the phone that might help us find Hannah’s killer? Had he looked for the phone and missed it too?

As I put the phone and the address book in my desk drawer, I made the decision to call Detective Sykes. Two weeks was long enough. I looked through my purse for the number. When I found it, I took a deep breath and dialed. He answered on the third ring.

“Detective Sykes, it’s Sarah Miller. I’m sorry to bother you, but you said you’d call.”

There was silence for several seconds. Had he hung up?

“Are you there?”

“Yes, Miss Miller, I’m here. If I had anything to tell you, I would have called.”

“I . . . I understand, it’s just that—”

“I’m sorry. We’re doing our best. There just isn’t anything new.”

His abrupt attitude started to irritate me. “Look, you could have at least called to check in. You knew I was waiting to hear from you.”

“I’ve got to go, Miss Miller,” he said quickly. “Again, I’m sorry. But I don’t have anything to tell you.”

“But what about the man you arrested? Have you been able to connect him to Hannah? You need to—”

Sykes said something, interrupting me, but I didn’t catch it.

“I’m sorry. What did you say?”

He cleared his throat. “I said he’s dead. We found him hanging in his cell a few days ago.”

I opened my mouth two or three times, trying to frame a response, but I was too flabbergasted to speak. The man was dead?

“But . . . does that mean you can’t tie him to Hannah?” I asked when I could find my voice again. “Or does it mean you think he did it and killed himself out of remorse? I don’t understand.”

Sykes sighed deeply into the phone. “Look, I’m really sorry, but I can’t talk right now. I’ll call you back when I have more time.” With that, he was gone.

I stared at the receiver in my hand. Had he really hung up on me? I suddenly heard the front door being slammed shut. A quick look at my watch revealed the entire afternoon was gone. It was a little after three o’clock. Cicely was home. I quickly put the phone down and went downstairs. Trying to regain my composure, I walked into the living room just in time to see her pulling off her coat.

“How was school?” I asked, trying to shake off my disturbing conversation with Detective Sykes.

“Pretty good. I like Mr. King. He’s awesome.” She wrinkled her nose the same way Hannah used to. “He’s kind of cute.”

“Yes, he is. And you probably shouldn’t say that. Except to me.”

Cicely smiled. Although we still had a long way to go, I could see some improvement. I sent up a silent thank-you to God.

“Why don’t you come into the kitchen and have some cookies and milk?” I said. “Then you can tackle your homework.”

She nodded and started to walk toward me. Instead of going to the kitchen, I stood my ground and pointed at the coat she’d left lying across one of Janet’s chairs.

Cicely’s eyes followed my finger. “Whoops. Sorry.” She grabbed the coat and hung it up quickly in the front coat closet. Then she followed me into the kitchen. After a snack of chocolate chip cookies and milk, during which she told me about her day, she headed to her room to study.

I was cleaning up the kitchen when she came back into the room. “Aunt Sarah, can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.” I sat down at the table. “What is it?”

She chewed on her lip for a moment while looking somewhat apprehensive. Finally she took a deep breath. “How old do I have to be before I can . . . go on a date?”

Her question caught me off guard. “Date? You mean with a boy?”

Cicely sighed dramatically. “Yeah, with a boy.”

I stared back at her with my mouth hanging open. “I have no idea what to tell you, except that you’re way too young. Surely young girls don’t date until they’re at least sixteen.”

It was her turn to look shocked. “Sixteen? There were some girls at my old school who were married when they were sixteen!”

I didn’t consider myself a prude, even if I did live in Sanctuary, but that information shocked me. “Sixteen? That’s ridiculous.” I reached over and took her hand. “Cicely, you’re still a child. Besides, what boy are you referring to?” I couldn’t think of any likely candidates in Sanctuary. Was she talking about someone from Kansas City?

The previous cheerful atmosphere we’d enjoyed since she came home evaporated, and she pulled her hand away. “Mom would let me date. I’m not going to live my life all alone, like you do.”

I sat back in my chair, unsure of what to do or what to say. Maybe we hadn’t progressed as much as I thought.

“I think you need to go to your room and do your homework,” I said softly. “You’re upset. Let’s both calm down, and we’ll talk about this later.”

She glared at me. “You’re not my mom, you know. I don’t have to do anything you tell me to.”

Even though my voice shook, I couldn’t let her statement go unchallenged. “You’re right. I’m not your mother, but you absolutely have to do what I tell you. As long as you’re a minor and you live here, you have to obey me.”

As soon as I said the words, I wished I’d used another term rather than obey. Perhaps it was archaic, but it was all I could think of at that moment.

Cicely’s expression grew even stormier, and her eyes filled with tears. “My mom was so much better than you! Why couldn’t you be the one who died?”