The Silent Liberator

, a single dark spot in a sea of pastel suits and floral dresses. My navy dress was simple, the same one I wore to my

ir guests, tightened at the corners. Mrs. Hughes, a woman built of money and sharp

ant only for me. "I don' t know what you think

the groom," I sa

ted, appearing at her side. "That boy is gone. Today, our

s expensive tuxedo, a polite smile fixed on his face as he greeted a line of people I' d never seen before. He was

s all

teacher, noticed the confrontation. She

she asked, her eyes kin

ce," Mrs. Hughes said dismiss

er smile unwavering. "Any friend of Caleb' s

ly know that she was just another part

ter-in-law. She and her husband retreated, their backs rigid with fury. I found a seat at a table i

s, the first dance. He performed flawlessly. His smile

nder the flimsy bed in the foster home, the boy whose only real d

d his hand over hers. They smiled for the cameras. As they sliced into the towering white confection, I

nsed, watching

The scent of roses and sugar was thick in the ai

okay to