Lily picked at a loose thread on the bedspread.
“Even if we want to meet her?”
“Even then.”
“You don’t have to protect me from wanting answers about yourselves.”
Grace turned her phone toward me.
“We found our birth mother. Here’s her picture.”
The woman stood outside a café.
She was older than I remembered, with shorter hair.
But the small mole beside her mouth was unmistakable.
The woman stood outside a café.
I gripped the dresser.
“No. Not her. This can’t be happening!”
My knees buckled, and I sat heavily on the bed.
“Mom!” Lily reached for me.
Grace pulled the phone back.
“Do you know her?”
My knees buckled.
I stared at the screen.
“Her name is Mara.”
Lily went still.
“How do you know?”
“She worked at a café near your sister’s school.”
Grace frowned.
“Our sister?”
“Her name is Mara.”
“My first Lily. The morning she died, she dropped her paper flower at the café. Mara picked it up and tried to straighten its bent stem for her.”
Neither girl spoke.
Mara had been visibly pregnant when I’d last seen her.
Neither girl spoke.
I remembered how tired she’d looked.
Once, I’d overheard her asking the café manager for every extra shift he could give her before the babies arrived.
Lily watched my face.
“What is it?”
I remembered how tired she’d looked.
“I remember her being pregnant.”
“With us?”
“I don’t know for certain. But the timing fits.”
Grace showed me messages from the woman whose DNA matched them as a close maternal relative.
“I remember her being pregnant.”
The girls had checked what they could against the records available to them, though we still needed Mara herself to confirm the connection.
They hadn’t spoken to Mara herself.
Her sister hadn’t told her about them yet.
We still needed Mara herself to confirm the connection.
I handed back the phone.
“Then we need to think about what happens next.”
Lily stood abruptly.
“I know what I want.”
“What?”
“I want to ask her why.”
“I know what I want.”
Grace looked at her.
“Lily…”
“No. She left us at an airport. I want to hear her explain that.”
I understood her anger.
I’d once stood beside those empty seats myself.
“She left us at an airport.”
Grace folded her arms.
“I want answers too. But I don’t know if I’m ready to meet her.”
“You don’t have to decide tonight,” I said.
Lily paced toward the window.
“She was nice to your daughter.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready to meet her.”
I looked up.
“What?”
“You said she picked up her flower.”
“Yes.”
Lily pressed her lips together before continuing.
“She could be kind to somebody else’s little girl. So why couldn’t she keep us?”
“You said she picked up her flower.”
I had no answer. I wouldn’t invent one.
The next afternoon, Grace received another message from the aunt.
She read it twice before bringing me the phone.
“She told Mara about us,” Grace said.
I had no answer.
Lily stood beside her. “What did she say?”
“Mara knows we found her. She agreed to meet us, but she wants to explain everything herself.”
“Did she tell her sister why she left us?” Lily asked.
Grace shook her head.
“Her sister said it isn’t her story to tell.”
“What did she say?”
Lily walked to the window.
“So Mara gets to make us wait after eighteen years?”
“You don’t have to meet her,” I said.
Lily turned around.
“Yes, I do. I need to hear her say it.”
“You don’t have to meet her.”
Grace held the phone against her chest.
“I need to hear it too.”
I remembered Mara working through her pregnancy, asking the café manager for extra shifts, and looking more exhausted each week.
“I need to hear it too.”
Those memories gave me questions, but no answer.
Only Mara could tell my daughters why she’d left them.
That evening, Lily knocked on my bedroom door.
“Can I ask you something, Mom?”
Those memories gave me questions.
“Always, sweetheart.”
She sat beside me.
“If we meet her, will it hurt you?”
I put my book down.
