He was just five years younger than his father had been when he was killed, and he was the very picture of Larry. He was so much of their blood, yet so alien to them; so physically close, yet so far away. He looked so forlorn and lonely that they both burst into tears. “It hurts,” Henry said. “It hurts.” The Fords knew that Barbara had poisoned Bryan and Jason against them, but for years they had held out hope that their grandsons might want to find out the truth for themselves someday. They were convinced that Barbara held her sons in a psychological bond as tightly as her own mother had held her, yet they had no idea how to break through that. Bryan in particular had to have questions about all that had happened, they thought, and they hoped that someday he might find the strength to raise them and confront the truth at last. Only by doing that, they were convinced, could he and Jason ever break the bonds of the lies that skewed their visions of life. Only by doing that could they face the future with any realistic hope.
