“Looks like rain,” Emma’s Grandma Frances said, looking up. Emma squinted up at the vast blue sky, then at her grandmother. “Where?” she asked. “On its way.” Grandma Frances nodded. “Let’s you and I find a place to wait it out.” “A place to hide?” Emma asked, excited by the idea of a new game.
It began to rain. Jodi barely noticed. As soon as she saw her mom’s name, tears pricked her eyes and spilled over, mixing with the rain drops hitting the paper. It wasn’t long before it was impossible to tell if it was tears or rain making the words harder to read. Brenda May Sutters, aged