They looked much older. Their faces carried a fearful eagerness to please.
My mother held a food container. Inside were lemon bars, which she said had been my favorite when I was little.
When she saw me, she opened her mouth to speak, but tears fell before any words came out.
As I looked at them, the dull ache in my heart remained.
"Come upstairs and have some tea."
After saying that calmly, I turned and led the way.
Owen respected my choice and helped me make tea for my parents.
My father spoke first, "Nora, we were wrong. Come home with us."
I silently finished my cup of tea before replying, "Dad, Mom, just think of me as already dead."
I took a deep breath.
"This is my home now. I won't turn back again. I don't hate you, but I can't return to the way things were.
"The 8 years
