My daughter-in-law always hid her hands and back—until a beach trip revealed the truth she had been carrying all along.

for Emily’s hand under the table and didn’t bother hiding it.

And for the first time in two years, I stopped searching Emily for evidence of some hidden flaw.

There had never been anything wrong with her.

There had only been something wrong with the way I needed answers I had not earned.

When we got home, Emily came to Sunday dinner again.

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