The Reason Is You by Sharla Lovelace

Author:Sharla Lovelace [Lovelace, Sharla]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance, Contemporary, Mystery, Fantasy, Adult
ISBN: 9781101576151
Amazon: B006JSSF22
Goodreads: 17062611
Publisher: Berkley
Published: 2012-04-01T00:00:00+00:00

Henry. Tried to capture him, he’s walking away with a cane.

Do you see her sitting cross-legged there? So sad for such a pretty girl.

Her name was Carrie, she’s holding fingers over Jiminy’s head.

Every nerve ending in my body stood up on full salute, as the ringing in my ears rocketed to a deafening pitch and the words swam in front of me. I felt hotter than before, and I pulled at the neck of my T-shirt like it was cutting off my air.

“Are you kidding me?” I choked out as I touched the faded black print.

She was like me. My mom was like me.

And Dad knew.

“Oh my God.”

I flipped page after page, only half seeing the images, looking for the ones that had no images. There were only a handful of them, but it was enough. As I turned the last page, there was my picture, tucked loose into the back cover. Me and my mother.

“My moth—” I sobbed on the word and touched her face. “You knew this world. You knew how hard—why—why didn’t you come help me?”

I tossed the book aside and buried my face in my hands. All those years of feeling cut off from her. Of needing a mother. Of feeling like an outcast. Treated like a freak.

She was a freak, too.

But—I raised my head—she didn’t come across that way. She tried to take pictures of them, for one thing, and then put them very publicly in a book just because she knew they were there. She didn’t have to do that. She could have hid them or thrown them away. She chose to write about them, and—

“Oh my God.”

Riley looked at that book. But said nothing. Did she not understand? Maybe she didn’t read the captions? Or just thought old people were odd and blew it off. I swiped at my eyes and sweaty face, and then saw something else. Clipped together in a box next to some old framed school photos were a group of folded papers. I pulled them out and unclipped them, the old faded paper retaining the indention. I opened one, and my breath caught as I saw my mother’s handwriting.

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