Finding Grace by Becky Citra Read Free Book Online Page B

it.”
    â€œSo you gave her away.”
    â€œThere was a nurse at the hospital. Her name was Sharon Donnely. She fell in love with Grace. She worked in the polio ward. She knew how to do all the things for Grace. And she and her husband, Bill, couldn’t have children of their own, and they desperately wanted a child. We talked, and then…”
    Mom’s voice trails off.
    I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “What about me? Didn’t I wonder where Grace had gone?”
    â€œYou did at first. But you were little and I think after awhile you forgot you had a sister.”
    â€œBecause you lied to me. You told me Grace was imaginary. That I had made her up. You and Granny. You both lied to me.”
    Mom puts her hand on mine, but I jerk away.
    I’m crying now too. “How can she be my twin?” I gulp through my sobs. “She doesn’t look at all like me.”
    A sudden thought hits me. I stare at the photograph again. Curly brown hair. Blue eyes. A perfect nose. “She looks like you.”
    â€œYou’re fraternal twins,” Mom says, “not identical twins. You were totally different, right from the day you were born.”
    She hesitates. “There are more pictures. Granny hid them in her cupboard. I didn’t know. I found them when we were looking for the life insurance. Sharon and I had agreed that we wouldn’t have any contact, but Granny must have talked to her. Granny was so upset when Grace went. She must have made Sharon agree to send a picture every year on your birthday.”
    The big brown envelope. I feel sick. I hate Mom – I really hate her.
    I stand up. “I don’t want to see any more pictures. And I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
    â€œI’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry.”
    I swipe at my wet cheeks. “No you’re not.”
    I take a big shuddery breath. “If I had gotten sick would you have given me away too?”
    Mom looks like I have slapped her.
    â€œHow can you call yourself a mother?” I shout.
    I run out of the kitchen.

    â€¢ • • • •

    I think I’ve only been asleep for a hundred seconds, but when I turn on the light beside the couch and look at my watch it’s two o’clock, the middle of the night. Mom had made me a grilled cheese sandwich for my supper but I refused to eat it. So the last thing I ate was the lime Popsicle, but I don’t feel hungry.
    I have a sister. It’s like a voice keeps saying that over and over in my head, but I still don’t believe it.
    I get out of bed and peer out the living-room window. It’s raining lightly and the street is slick and black in the yellowish light from the street lamp.
    Grace isn’t my imaginary friend. She’s my sister. How could Mom have kept that a secret?
    When I turn back to bed, I notice a big brown envelope on the table beside the couch. My heart jumps. Mom must have sneaked in while I was sleeping.
    I tip the envelope onto my bed and a stack of photographs slides out. The one on top is the one I’ve already seen. The others are in order and I lay each one on my rumpled sheets. I study Grace’s face as she gets younger and younger. She is smiling in all the pictures and she seems to always be changing her hair: short, long, braids, high pigtails. Even in the braids, you can see the curls escaping around her face.
    When I get to the last picture, I feel like I’ve been hit in the stomach. There are braces on Grace’s legs. Like Patty in my second grade class.
    â€œ Polio .”
    I whisper the word, but it sounds as loud as a drum in my ears. I turn the photograph over. The same flowing letters.

    Grace. June 23, 1947

    1947 was seven years ago. She was four. I don’t know what she looked like before that. I don’t know what she looked like the last time I saw her. I close my eyes. I try to force my brain to remember,