ss of the alley, knowing who the killer was but sworn not to say anything. She had come to him that morning, with her baby crying in her arms, as she explained what she had to do.

ional adoption agencies, and he had the foresight to have her sign the papers giving her for adoption before she left. Natalya could never be listed with any orphanage, never go through any open court

d for Minneapolis, Minnesota. In her mother's purse were the adoption papers and her new birth cert

d her, a fact that

Minn

ie's

I was two years old, and now cancer was

ne to kick in so she could sleep. Her once-beautiful face was pale,

ome for Thanksgiving when I found her. When I came through the door, she was lying on the floor holding her stomach, barely able to talk with the pain. I rushed her to the hospital, whe

air out of her face while she threw up after the harsh chemotherapy treatments, then held her shoulders after her hair had fallen out. The two ro

ry, everything. The house that was paid for, she took out a reverse mortgage on. I offered to use my savings, to sell the car I had worked throu

y. "It's time," she told me

Mom

. I'm tired of fighting it. Let me enjoy

s, it was cold, and her skin

h a tissue. "In the bottom drawer of the desk is an envelope, it has my will

t money, Mom

did anything to hurt you, only to protect you. You're my daughter and I'd do anything fo

dients together in a pan. I started the sausage first, rolling it into small balls before cooking it in oil. A green pepper and part of a red onion followed, finally some sliced mushrooms. The tomato sauce was canned, I didn't have enough fresh tomatoes to make my own sauce like I normally would. While the mixture

at a rolling boil, and I added the bowtie pasta to it. After I stirred it, I opened a can of chicken broth and started to ma

pped three months ago as we cut our expenses, so I watched a DVD of Sons of Anarchy on the 21" television I'd moved into the room. I ate the pas

f water to the bed tray before taking it into her room. I pushed open the door to her room, bringing the

hand was cold, and I reached down and checked her pulse while watching her chest. "Oh God, Mom." I collapsed on the bed,

I had to walk to the neighbor's and ask if I could use their phone. Thir

sleep t

, and opened the drawer, flipping through the folders until I got to the one called "WILL." I ope

s. Legally, I had no obligations to make good on her debt, they would be fighting over the scraps left over when her estate was settled. She left instructions for her to be cremated, for me to scatter her ashes on the same Lake Superior overlook where she had sc

Inside were originals of a couple documents; my heart s

the part I didn't understand. She had told me there would be some hard things to understand, but that she was m

ad, Russia. My father was listed as unknown. Mom and Dad were listed, it was an int

nd your parents have decided you should know the truth. I cannot tell you if you want to know that truth;

ied soon after you mother returned, and I was the only other person there at your birth." I wiped a tear. "This is one of those points you have to ask yourself how much you want to know. If you continue to read, you cannot unsee it. If you were my charge, I would be

ver the houses in the older neighborhood. Our house was small and simple, built in the 1920's. As I drank the water

, turn this page over and you will lear

over, my h