The walls were lined with family photos. Children laughing in trees, children laughing in front of waterfalls, children laughing with horses and dogs. A picture of East in a white dress in a church. Similar pictures of each boy in a black suit at the same church. A picture of Eli in a long robe, in front of a rectangular table. I think it’s called an altar. His family surrounding him, Quinn an infant in Charlotte’s arms. JP, no older than Quinn is now.
My dad had always been proud of the fact that I had never been in a church, never been “defiled by the lies,” as he would say. Now I wondered if that was true. These people were religious; perhaps my mother had been too.
I stopped and stared. In a delicate silver picture frame I saw myself. My mouth fell open and I couldn’t breathe. This w
