“Ah.” She nodded, and her lips pursed into a small grin. “Mr. Rogers’s mother said when there is tragedy, look for the helpers. They’re always there.” Now it was my eyes that blurred with unshed tears. “I’m not a hero,” I croaked. “To her, and to your parents, you were.” Her words hit like torpedoes, spoken with such assurance I sucked in a ragged breath. The possibility my family saw me as a hero gutted me in multiple ways. I wanted so badly for them to see my sacrifices and acknowledge them, but I didn’t want credit for credit’s sake. I wanted them to know I did it all from love. I’d do it
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