“I never buried Evelyn.”
The priest’s words echoed through the library.
For a moment…
I forgot how to breathe.
“You…”
My voice cracked.
“What did you say?”
He stepped inside and quietly closed the door behind him.
“My name is Father Benedict.”
“I served St. Michael’s Parish for forty-two years.”
His eyes never left mine.
“And I have waited twenty-four years to meet you again.”
⸻
I shook my head.
“No.”
“My mother died.”
“I saw her grave.”
“You saw a grave.”
He corrected gently.
“You never saw the body.”
My knees felt weak.
I grabbed the edge of the table to steady myself.
“If she isn’t buried there…”
“Where is she?”
Pain flickered across his face.
“I don’t know.”
“But I know she survived that night.”
My heart began pounding so hard it hurt.
“You’ve seen her?”
“N
