Free More Than You Know by Nan Rossiter

continued, “Mum didn’t know. I tucked it into my clutch before I left and slipped it on in the car, and then I put it back the next morning.”
    “How did you know about it?”
    She shrugged. “Do you remember how we used to dress up and wear all of Mum’s beads and clip-on earrings?” They nodded and she continued. “Well, one time I accidently pulled the drawer out all the way and I saw the ring . . . and I never forgot it.”
    “How old were you?”
    Isak shrugged. “I don’t know, seven or eight. Why?”
    “Well, we were wondering how long she’d had it because we never saw her wear it.”
    Isak nodded. “I don’t know why she never wore it.”
    “Didn’t you worry you might lose it?”
    Isak ran her fingers through her thick mane of red hair, fluffing it up, and grinned impishly. “Ber, when I was eighteen, I didn’t worry about anything. Life was all about having fun and seeing how much I could get away with.”
    Beryl shook her head—it would never have even occurred to her to do such a thing.
    Isak smiled, reading her mind. “Berry, how are you going to write the next great American novel if you don’t live a little—if you never take any chances? What will you write about? Mum never wore this gorgeous ring—she never did anything out of character—and now, she’s gone. Her life is over. Is that how you want your life to be?”
    Beryl searched her sister’s face, trying to wrap her mind around what she’d just said, and when she answered, her voice was edged with anger. “Mum lived a good life, Isak. Maybe it wasn’t as exciting as yours, but she raised three little girls all by herself, and she never lost her faith in spite of tragedy, loss, and heartache. She helped those who were less fortunate, volunteered at soup kitchens, helped little kids learn to read, and gave generously to her church. Mum made us her life, and I know she felt blessed. I don’t know how many times I heard her say her cup runneth over.” Tears had filled Beryl’s eyes as she spoke. She couldn’t believe she had to defend their mother’s life to her own sister.
    “I’m sorry, Ber, I didn’t mean to upset you. All I meant was she could’ve lived a little.”
    “You’ve lived a little, Isak. You’ve snuck out of the house, run wild, traveled the world, driven expensive cars and hosted parties until the wee hours of the morning. Does that make your life better somehow?”
    Isak swallowed hard and stared. Her youngest sister—so like their mom—wasn’t fooled by her bravado. She had looked straight into her heart and seen the emptiness, and she had spoken with brutal honesty. “You’re right, Beryl,” she said, her voice edged with sarcasm. “I do feel like something’s missing.”
    Beryl’s mouth dropped. “I . . . I’m sorry, Isak,” she stammered. She took a deep breath. “I’m just tired and stressed, and that didn’t come out the way I—”
    But Isak held up her hand and shook her head. “No, Ber. You’re right. Mum did live a good, full life and I . . .” She stopped as tears spilled down her cheeks. “I just wish I could ask her her secret.”
    Beryl nodded slowly. “I wish I could too,” she said softly.
    Rumer, who’d been sitting on the bed, cleared her throat. “Well,” she began hesitantly, “there’s actually more to our question . . .” Isak looked up and Rumer handed her the card. “Did you ever see this?”
    Isak opened the card and turned it over. “No—you know me . . .” she said with a weak smile. “Blinded by bling! All I saw was the ring.” Her rhyming words rang true and they all laughed. Isak studied the handwriting again and slowly shook her head. “Who is David?”
    Rumer shrugged. “We were hoping you would know.”

9
    “I think Mum would be happy with the hymns we chose,” Beryl said, climbing into the back of the Mustang. “She always loved ‘Here I Am, Lord’—and cried every time we sang it in church.” She pulled the seat back for