Reality can be so deceiving. Aunt Jane was a dazzling angel from the outside who knew what we thought about her. Shockingly, she wasn’t afraid to say it directly to our faces. “Uh, I, uh,” I stuttered. Words jumbled in my mind. I couldn’t get over the fact that my father’s murderer was directly addressing me. Jane’s sparkling, smiling eyes made me wildly uncomfortable. How could I be rude or express open hatred toward such an affable face? “I can see how you all feel about me ...