Free Cross My Heart, Hope to Die by Sara Shepard Page B

growing up.”
    Emma shifted uncomfortably. “Um, where did this tea set come from, Mom?” she asked, hoping to change the subject from her personality shift.
    Mrs. Mercer eyed her strangely over the silver sugar tongs. “You don’t remember? This was your great-grandma’s, the only thing she brought with her from Scotland. I’m not sure how old it is—I always got the impression that it’d been handed down well before then.”
    I suppressed a twinge of sadness—and anger. How many times had I listened to family history and felt shut out of it just because I thought I was adopted? I still didn’t understand why my grandparents didn’t feel that they could tell me that their stories were my stories, too, that I was related to the ancestors who had come over from Scotland with that tea set. It all came back to Becky. What had she done that had merited banishment so complete that I wasn’t even allowed to know my own heritage?
    Emma looked thoughtfully at the tea service, thinking the same thing I was. Wheels started turning at the back of her mind.
    She looked up. “Mom, can I ask you a question? Do you … have any regrets?”
    Mrs. Mercer looked surprised. “Regrets?”
    “You know, people you don’t talk to anymore, relationships you’ve cut off. Anything like that.” She almost winced at how transparent she sounded, but Mrs. Mercer didn’t seem to notice.
    Her grandmother looked down into her cup. “You know, things change. People change. Sometimes you have to move on from someone you care about. It can be hard, honey.” Mrs. Mercer folded and unfolded a linen napkin embroidered with a pineapple. “Sometimes you have to admit that a relationship can’t be fixed. That no matter how much you want to, you can’t trust some people.”
    Something about her words sent a little shiver up Emma’s spine. She poured more tea into her cup, a few stray leaves swirling in the hot liquid. She wished she could use them to see the future. Or even better, the past.
    Mrs. Mercer frowned. “What’s this about, sweetheart?”
    “Nothing,” Emma said, biting her lip. “I’ve just been thinking how you’ve always been there for me, no matter what. I guess it just got me wondering if I’ve ever pushed you too far.” Like Becky did , she thought, willing Mrs. Mercer to open up. Come on, Grandma, tell me how Becky crossed that line .
    Her grandmother took Emma’s hand across the table, her bright blue eyes wide with concern. “Are you trying to tell me something? Are you in some kind of … trouble?”
    Emma shook her head. “No, of course not. Everything’s fine.”
    Mrs. Mercer looked searchingly into Emma’s eyes for a long moment, then let go of Emma’s hand and picked up her teacup and saucer, the porcelain clinking softly together. When she spoke again, her voice was halting and careful, as if she were still forming the words in her head.
    “Sutton, I love you and your sister very much. I would do anything for you two. I’ve been hard on you sometimes, I know that. But it’s because I look at you and I think about all the potential you have, to be successful and healthy and happy.” She paused. “A mother’s love is unconditional, Sutton. There’s nothing you could ever do to make me love you less. I promise.”
    Emma looked back down to her tea. An unmistakable sadness had gripped her at her grandmother’s words. A mother’s love should be unconditional. But Mrs. Mercer clearly hadn’t felt that way about Becky. And Becky certainly hadn’t felt that way about her twins.
    Emma didn’t know why Mrs. Mercer had accepted Laurel and Sutton and not Becky, but she knew she wouldn’t be getting any information from her today. She’d just have to keep digging and find her own answers.
    For both our sakes.

11
A PICNIC UNDER THE STARS
    When Emma arrived at the park that evening, Ethan was already at the trailhead, his telescope in its plastic case on his back. The sun was setting behind the