My upset stomach protested, grumbled its refusal to answer. My mouth filled with saliva, body threatening to reject the few sips of coffee that made it down my throat. "No one." Because he wasn't. He was everyone, and nothing and everything. And I had my daughter to think about now. But I couldn't forget him, knew he would live in my heart forever.
"He's someone," Gram said. "You've been saying his name in your sleep."
She'd been watching me, then. Not really surprising. I shrugged. "Ethie?" Repeating her name stirred guilt and shame.
"Coping," Gram said. "She's struggling a bit with the babies." Her grimace told me she wasn't surprised. Nor was I, come to think of it. Ethie always had possession and jealousy issues, even with her brother. It had to be hard on her. But I couldn't help thinking in my present state of mind I'd only make things worse if I interfered.