“But she sent me that letter six months later.
So she knew enough to feel guilty about it.”
I pushed back from the table and stood up.
I needed to move.
I walked to the window and stood there with my back to her.
“What happened?” I said.
“With the baby.”
“I had her,” Anna said.
“I went home to my mother’s house.
I had her there.”
I turned around.
“A girl,” I said.
“A girl.” Anna’s voice was steady, but her hands tightened around the cup.
“I named her Claire.”
The name landed like something physical.
“Where is she?” I asked.
“She’s forty years old,” Anna said.
“She lives about twenty minutes from here.
She has two children of her own.” A pause.
“Your grandchildren, James.
If you want to think of them that way.”
