I began crying.
Biscuit had been our golden retriever.
He died two years after the crash.
And Sophie had stolen Benjamin’s blankets constantly.
She claimed his were softer.
Rebecca continued gently.
“He also remembers a woman singing while she cooked.”
I covered my face.
Grant used to tease me because I sang the same old song every Sunday while making pancakes.
“Can I see him?”
“Yes.
But we need to move carefully.
He’s been told a very different story about his past.”
“I understand.”
I didn’t.
Not really.
I couldn’t understand how anyone could look at a grieving child and decide to erase his family.
But I would do whatever was necessary.
Two days later, Hannah and I flew to Montana.
Rebecca met us outside a quiet medical facility surrounded by pine trees.
My legs shook as we entered.
A specialist explained that the young man now called Eli had experienced serious trauma after the crash.
