A daughter who had grown up without a father because of a lie told at a door on an ordinary morning.
“Yes,” I said.
“I want to know all of it.”
Anna nodded once.
She reached into the pocket of her cardigan and placed her phone on the table.
“Then I think,” she said carefully, “that before I call Claire, you should read the rest of the letter.”
I had forgotten there was more.
I picked it up from where it had fallen on the floor.
My hands were steadier now.
I found the place where I had stopped.
*I never told James about the pregnancy.
By the time I understood what I had done, it felt too late to undo any of it.
I told myself it was better for everyone.
