Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN WHO REMEMBERED EVERYTHING
“But Rosie was still breathing when they carried her out.”
Glenn's words stayed with me long after our conversation ended.
“Then why did your mother tell you she died in her sleep?” I asked.
“I don't know.”
“Have you ever asked her?”
“Once. When I was fourteen.”
“What happened?”
“She slapped me.”
I sat down slowly.
Glenn had always defended his mother, even when her behavior was impossible to justify. But I suddenly understood that his loyalty might have been built on something more complicated than love.
Fear.
“Glenn, you need to find out what happened.”
“Maybe. But that doesn't change what's happening between us.”
“No,” I agreed. “It doesn't.”
He seemed surprised that I wasn't begging him to reconsider.
“Dana—”
“You accused me of cheating. You rejected our child. Whatever happened in your childhood doesn't excuse that.”
Then I ended the call.
The following morning, I took Cooper to kindergarten before heading to school.
As I helped him hang up his backpack, he pointed to a drawing displayed near the classroom door.
It showed three people standing beneath a yellow sun.
“That's us,” he said.
“Who's the third person?”
“Daddy.”
My throat tightened.
“That's a beautiful picture.”
Cooper touched the paper.
“I made Daddy smiling because I forgot what his happy face looks like.”
I turned away before he could see my tears.
At lunchtime, my school principal, Mrs. Henderson, asked to speak with me.
“Dana, I want you to hear something directly from me.”
I immediately feared something had happened to Cooper.
Instead, she explained that Bernice had spoken to several parents in our neighborhood, telling them Glenn had discovered I was unfaithful.
Worse, she was claiming that Cooper's illness came from an unknown man.
I felt physically sick.
“My personal life shouldn't be discussed at school.”
“Of course not,” Mrs. Henderson replied. “I'm telling you because rumors have a way of spreading. Your job is safe. But you deserve to know what's being said.”
I thanked her.
Then I returned to my classroom and taught the rest of the afternoon as though my world weren't falling apart.
That evening, I decided to speak to someone who might remember Glenn's childhood.
His aunt Violet.
Violet was Bernice's younger sister. She lived forty minutes away and had attended our wedding, but Bernice rarely invited her to family gatherings.
Whenever I asked why, Glenn said the sisters had never gotten along.
I called Violet and explained what I had found.
When I mentioned Rosie's photograph, she went quiet.
Then she asked, “Does Bernice know you saw it?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, Dana.”
Her voice sounded tired.
“Can I come see you?”
We met the following morning at a small diner near Violet's house.
She was seventy-two, with silver hair and kind eyes.
She brought a worn brown handbag.
Before ordering coffee, she studied the photograph on my phone.
“I remember that day.”
“Were both children sick?”
Violet nodded.
“Rosie was nine. Glenn was six.”
“What happened to Rosie?”
Violet took a long breath.
“She had seizures. They started when she was four. Some were mild. Others were terrifying.”
I pressed a hand against my mouth.
“Then Bernice knew epilepsy existed in the family.”
“Of course she knew.”
“Why would she tell Cooper's doctors otherwise?”
Violet looked toward the window.
“Because your mother-in-law has spent thirty years pretending that illness never entered her house.”
She explained that Rosie had been a bright, affectionate girl who loved drawing flowers and playing the piano.
Bernice had once been a devoted mother.
She sat beside Rosie's hospital bed for days, learned how to administer her medication, and fought to find specialists.
But Glenn's father, Douglas, believed illness reflected weakness.
“He couldn't bear having a sick child,” Violet said. “He blamed Bernice. Said something must be wrong with her side of the family.”
I recognized those words.
Bernice had repeated almost the same accusation about Cooper.
“What happened to Rosie?”
“She died after a prolonged seizure. The doctors tried to save her.”
I lowered my eyes.
“And Glenn?”
Violet's expression changed.
“He had episodes too. They were different, and less frequent, but the doctors were concerned.”
“Did they diagnose him?”
“I wasn't present for every appointment. But I know they wanted him evaluated further.”
“Did Bernice do that?”
Violet hesitated.
Then she opened her handbag and removed a small silver wristwatch.
The glass was cracked.
On the back, two initials were engraved.
R & G.
“Rosie gave this to Glenn,” she said. “She bought it with money she'd saved from birthdays. She wanted him to have something that belonged to both of them.”
I touched the scratched metal.
“Why do you have it?”
“Bernice gave it to me after Rosie died. She couldn't stand looking at it.”
Violet turned the watch over.
“I've kept it all these years because I thought Glenn might want it someday.”
Then she said something that changed everything I believed about Bernice.
“Dana, Bernice didn't simply hide Rosie's illness from the world.”
May you like
She closed her fingers around the watch.
“She made a decision about Glenn's medical care after Rosie died. And I have regretted keeping quiet about it ever since.”
