“You told me he didn’t want to know.
You told me he had moved on and didn’t want contact.”
“That’s what I was told,” Anna said.
Her voice was steady, but her eyes were wet.
“I believed it, Claire.
I would never have — ” She stopped.
“I’m sorry.
I should have found out for certain.
I should have tried harder.”
“Forty years,” Claire said.
Not angry.
Not yet.
Just the number, sitting there.
She looked at me again.
Really looked, the way she hadn’t allowed herself to do since she walked in.
Her eyes moved across my face slowly, and I watched the moment it landed — whatever it was she recognized.
Her hand came up and touched her own jaw, briefly, without seeming to realize she’d done it.
“I used to ask about you,” she said.
