THE LETTER KEEPER

day. The letter had arrived three weeks ago, addressed to Mrs. Eleanor Hartwell at 42 Maple Street-a house that had stood empty for two years since Eleanor's passing. Marga

bout the silence between them that had stretched across decades and miles. Against every regulation she'd ever followed, Margaret carefully opened the envelope. Dear Mom, I know I have no right to write to you after all these years. I know I was stubborn and proud, and I know I hurt you when I left after Dad's funeral. I said things I didn't mean because I was angry-angry at him for leaving, angry at the world, angry at myself for not being there enough when he was sick. I'm writing because I'm sick now too. The doctors say I have maybe six months. I don't have anyon