Her hand rose weakly to my cheek.
“Take me home, Laura.”
“I knew you were somewhere,” she whispered. “I just couldn’t remember the way back.”
I took the ring from its bag and slid it carefully onto her finger. It hung loosely, but she curled her hand around mine, holding it in place.
“Take me home, Laura,” she said.
“I will.”
Behind me, Margaret began to cry. Thomas put an arm around her, and I finally understood: they hadn’t taken my mother from me. They had protected her until I could find her.