CHAPTER 12My pillow was wet when the knock at the outside door disturbed me. For several moments, disoriented by the flood of long-suppressed memories, I lay still, listening to Lise’s collected voice as she conversed familiarly with whoever sought admittance. Then, when her footfall began to cross the outer chamber to my door, I rose from the bed, wiping my face with my sleeve much as my son did. I told myself I had been weeping only for Robert.
“It’s his nephews,” Lise said bluntly from the doorway, “and the twins. Do you want them, or are you asleep?”
Since she had not troubled to lower her voice, they would have heard every word. Nevertheless, neither of us doubted her ability to keep them out if I desired it. I did not. There were more, and worse, memories.
“Let them come in,” I sa
