Rosalie covered her mouth.
Gideon watched her.
She handed him the journal.
His face became unreadable as he read.
Then footsteps sounded downstairs.
Rosalie froze.
Her father’s voice.
“Merrick?”
Gideon immediately replaced the loose board.
Rosalie gathered the journal and letters into her bag.
The bedroom door opened.
Her father stood there.
His eyes moved from Rosalie to Gideon.
Then to the displaced dust near the floorboard.
“What are you doing here?”
Rosalie stood.
“I came for Mother’s things.”
His expression hardened.
“Those aren’t yours.”
“They belonged to her.”
“They belong in this house.”
Rosalie’s fear rose automatically.
For twenty-two years, that tone had controlled her.
Then Gideon stepped beside her.
He did not threaten her father.
He simply stood there.
And Rosalie realized she no longer had to become small.
