he white candle stood beside Audrey’s birthday cake every year since I brought her home without her mother. Just before her 15th birthday party, I found Hannah’s handwriting on a box hidden behind her closet shelf. Inside was something written for Audrey, but one line changed what the candle meant.
The white candle was already waiting beside Audrey’s birthday cake when I found the box.
Fifteen pink and purple candles sat in a little glass bowl on the kitchen counter. The white one lay by itself beside them.
It always did.
I found the box.
Audrey had been lighting it for her mother since she was old enough to hold a match.
When she was six, I’d helped guide her hand.
At nine, she’d insisted she could do it herself.
Audrey had been lighting it for her mother.