small leather notebook, and a sealed letter addressed to me.
My name covered the front.
This time, there was no question about the handwriting.
I pressed the envelope to my chest.
“She knew I might find this.”
“Or she left it for someone to find.”
I looked at him.
“Do you think she wanted me to come here?”
“I think she wanted you to have the truth when you were ready for it.”
I opened the letter.
*My dear Anna,*
*If you are reading this, then I have failed to
