I’ve been married to Tobby for a decade now. We have three kids and a life that always felt solid. Our place wasn’t a mansion, but it was ours. I trusted him with all my heart.
Then Octavia got really sick.
I know a lot of women complain about their mothers-in-law. I never had a reason to. Octavia was different. She felt like the mom I’d always dreamed of having.
My mother-in-law taught me how to bake her famous peach cobbler and showed me how to break a fever using cool washcloths and soft lullabies. She never once treated me like an outsider.
One time, she squeezed my hand and told me, “You are the daughter I never got to have.”
I held onto those words for years.
When she ended up in the hospital, I stayed by her bedside as much as humanly possible. Tobby just came and went. The grief made him too restless to sit still.
I took charge of dealing with the nurses, the doctors, and all the endless paperwork.
One night, when the hallway outside her hospital room had finally quieted down, she opened her eyes and waved for me to lean in.
“You really should have heard this from my son a long time ago,” she whispered when it was just the two of us.
She then pressed a hard, cold object into my palm.
“I can’t keep hiding the truth from you anymore,” she said softly. “Drive out to our old summer place and see the truth for yourself. Please forgive me in advance.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Octavia, what are you talking about? What truth?”
But her eyes were already closed. A few minutes later, she slipped into a very deep sleep. She never woke up again.
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