David placed it on the patio table in front of Hannah.
She ran her fingers over the lid.
“Dad, what is this?”
He sat across from her.
Then he said,
“There’s something we should have told you a long time ago.”
I felt sick.
Hannah looked at me.
I couldn’t meet her eyes.
David continued.
“You weren’t born alone.”
She frowned.
“What?”
“You had a twin sister.”
Hannah froze.
David’s voice cracked.
“Her name was Rosie.”
She didn’t move.
“She was born eleven minutes after you.”
Her hands remained on top of the wooden box.
“She di3d nine days after we brought you home.”
Silence.
I expected Hannah to cry.
She didn’t.
I expected yelling.
Nothing.
Instead, she asked one question.
“Does everyone know?”
That hurt worse.
David nodded.
“Yes.”
“Grandma knows?”
“Yes.”
“Uncle Matt?”
“Yes.”
“Aunt Lisa?”
“Yes.”
