When I started dating Daniel, he offered me the most difficult truth of his life on our very second date. He spoke in that measured, hollow tone of someone who has spent years holding back a landslide of grief. He told me he was a widower with two young daughters—Grace, who was then three, and Emily, who was barely one. By the time we married three years later, I had fallen deeply in love with not just the man, but the girls as well. Grace was a sharp, watchful six year old who looked at the world with a seriousness that made her seem decades older, while four year old Emily was a whirlwind of sunshine and chaotic energy. I never tried to replace their mother, but I worked tirelessly to build a sanctuary for them. However, it wasn’t long after I moved into their family home that I realized the house was holding a secret I was never meant to find.
