Those were not necessarily the same thing.
Before leaving, Ava tugged Melissa toward the oak tree behind the market.
“There,” she said. “Grandpa told me you used to swing here.”
Only a piece of rope remained from the old tire swing.
Melissa touched the bark.
“I remember Mom.”
My heart jumped.
“What about her?”
Melissa closed her eyes.
“Not here.”
“No?”
“In a room.”
“A hospital?”
“I think so.”
She looked at me.
“She was wearing the green scarf.”
I knew the scarf.
Dorothy wore it during the months after Melissa’s funeral because someone had told her green symbolized hope.
That afternoon, Calvin and I returned to Dorothy’s notebook.
Two pages after the St. Anne entry, we found an address.
CAROL BENNETT.
I searched online.
A Carol Bennett, retired registered nurse, still lived thirty miles away.
I called.
An elderly woman answered.
When I said Dorothy Grant’s name, she went silent.
