I pulled into the driveway so fast the tires squealed. Liam whispered, “Grandma, are you mad?” I told him no, and unbuckled him with shaking hands. The garage door was shut, and a light glowed through the narrow window. I heard voices, and then my daughter Hannah’s laugh, quickly hushed. I knocked on the side door, and everything inside went silent.

The door opened a few inches, and Hannah’s face went white. “Mom? You’re early.” Behind her, her husband Grant stood by a tall shape draped in a bedsheet. “Liam told me everything,” I said. Hannah closed her eyes. Grant sighed and slowly lifted the sheet, and I stopped breathing, because what stood beneath it was something I had never expected to see in that garage.