Klempner
At the door, standing ajar, I hesitate, my stomach suddenly dropping away.
Have I done enough?
With muscles oddly reluctant to move, I tap on the door, very quietly.
"It's open."
I push, and too slowly, the door swings wider.
Jenny's sitting in a rocking chair by the window. Her hair, so like her mother's spills over a thick shawl pulled around her shoulders. A warm blanket covers her lap. And her face, while pale, has lost that sheen she had when Michael and I found her.
And held in her arms, wrapped in layers of knitted woollens...
Cara...
Your daughter.
My granddaughter.
I want to say something. Something appropriate, but I'm not sure what it should be.
I abused you...
Mistreated you...
Took my revenge on you...
For something you had no involvement in.
And as y
