Booktree.ng_Forgotten-Witness

parts were more like her mother’s, but Josie’s height, the cut of
her cheek, the broadness of her shoulders, her slim hips made
her a handsome woman, not a stunning one. Josie’s
movements were purposeful and athletic; Emily’s were strong
but fluid and ladylike. And yet there were changes that
underscored how much time had been lost. Deep lines fanned
at the corner of her mother’s eyes, her skin was almost
colorless making her appear luminescent, her bones were
small and fragile. That was not what Josie wanted. She wanted
Emily to stand up to her and explain herself, but then Josie
saw her mother’s feet and wondered if Emily could even walk
any longer. Every disappointment Josie had suffered, every
flash of anger, every resentful moment she had experienced
over the years disintegrated at the sight of her mother’s feet
covered by the soft slippers. Josie had the fleeting thought that
Emily could no more have stood up for her all those years ago
than she could stand up to her now.
Josie bent down and hooked the fingers of her good hand
over the arm of the chair to steady herself. Emily’s eyes
flickered away from Bernard Reynolds and rested on Josie’s
hand. When Emily looked up, Josie saw that the color had
faded in her mother’s eyes like a blue pinafore left too long in
the sun. Emily smiled. She inclined her head and then raised
one hand. She cupped Josie’s face.
“You are so pretty,” Emily said.
“Tell them who I am,” Josie whispered.
Emily titled her head to the other side. Two of her fingers
moved as if to test the mold of Josie’s jaw. Josie could not
resist that touch. She nestled her face in the palm of her
mother’s hand, she let her shoulders give up the great weight
she had carried so many years, she let her eyes fill with tears
that had never been shed. Josie sank to her knees and closed
her eyes.
“Tell them.”
In what seemed an eternal moment, Josie waited to hear her
mother speak. Instead, she felt Emily’s hand on hers, Emily’s