“Mum stays, you go,” said Edward, unbuttoning his coat and hanging it on the hook in the hallway.
**Diary Entry June 14th** When Charlotte married, she was twenty-five. No longer a naive girl dreaming
**A Black Dogs Coat Cant Be Washed White** “Sophie, fine, Ill help you with everything.
Grief can twist our hearts, turning love into something distant and memories into sharp regrets.
The door swung open before I could reach the hallway. There stood Margaret Whitmore, my mother-in-law
**The Final Confession** Once, they were the perfect couple. Both worked, neither had bad habits.
On his sixteenth birthday, my nephew declared he would never, ever get married. What was the point?
The Forgotten Deed My name is Margaret Anne Holbrook, and I am 68 years old. For most of my life, I was
**The Number of Fate** Margaret Sullivan had lost her daughter years ago in a tragic accident.
“Daughter, someone left you at my doorstep; no one wanted you, so I raised you,”