My name is Grace Holloway, and I’ve spent most of my life in a small town in Oregon, teaching English literature at the local middle school. I never got married. I never had children of my own. But I did raise two children—twins, actually—who changed my life in ways I never could have imagined.
It all began 22 years ago, on a cold October morning.
I arrived at school early, as always, coffee in hand, ready to prep for my eighth-grade class. I wasn’t expecting Principal Rowley to be waiting for me outside my classroom.
“Grace,” he said gently, “I need to talk to you. Do you remember the Harrison twins? Eli and Emma?”
Of course I did. They were only six, in Mrs. Jacob’s first-grade class. I’d helped out during reading time the week before. Eli was shy but curious. Emma, bright and talkative, always tugging at her brother’s hand.
“There was a car accident last night,” the principal said softly. “Their parents didn’t survive.”
