"Can you ever admit you love for you half-sister?"
I reread the last letter and put it on the top of the pile. Twenty-two love letters written to my father over thirty years ago by a woman who was not my mother. They started friendly, a bit formal even,...
"A stormy night, a woman alone and a friendly voice at the end of the phone."
Rain rattled against the window like rice on a drum skin, and the house groaned as the wind wheezed through gaps around the old doors. Emily tried again to convince herself she was not scared; the old Emily would not...