Owen nodded toward the side of the stage. The curtain opened, and I heard people gasp all around me.
Mrs. Parker gripped the arms of her chair.
“Owen,” she whispered, “how did you know?”
Behind the curtain stood twelve people.
Not children.
Adults.
Some looked to be in their forties. Others were well into their fifties. One man had silver in his beard. A woman in a red coat was crying before she had even stepped into the light.
For a few seconds, I couldn’t understand what I was looking at.
Then the woman in red lifted one trembling hand.
“Hello, Mrs. Parker.”
Mrs. Parker covered her mouth.
“Oh,” she breathed.
The audience had gone completely silent.
The man beside the woman laughed softly, though his eyes were wet.
“You still recognize us?”
Mrs. Parker looked from face to face.
“Daniel Mercer,” she said.
He nodded.
Her gaze shifted.
“Lisa Tran.”
