Now that Elin understood that this was where Kate had been hiding—not so much hiding as living, not so much living as plodding toward her death—she stood at the foot of this tiny woman’s bed, held in place by an emanating, delicate innocence. Her sister was a stranger whose life had existed outside of Elin’s understanding, hidden from her affections, an outsider with a warmth and affection all her own, uncloaked inside this house, broadcast in everything around her, the faces of her daughters the most staggering display.
