“It might bring up some difficult memories.”
Lily stared at her hands.
“But?”
“If we meet her, will it hurt you?”
“But that isn’t a reason for you to go without answers.”
She leaned against me.
“I don’t want another mom.”
“You don’t have to know what you want from her yet, honey.”
Lily was quiet.
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“I don’t want another mom.”
Then she said, “Grace wants to write to her before we meet.”
“That sounds sensible.”
“I don’t. I want to ask my questions face-to-face.”
“You can approach this differently, sweetheart,” I said.
She nodded.
“That sounds sensible.”
After a while, she went to find her sister.
I stayed on the bed, thinking about Mara’s face.
Then I remembered the envelope in my dresser.
Inside was the paper flower I’d found in Lily’s coat pocket when the hospital returned her belongings.
I remembered the envelope in my dresser.
I took it out.
Its stem was still creased where Mara had tried to straighten it.
For eighteen years, I’d kept it because it was one of the last things my daughter had touched.
I put the flower back in its envelope and went downstairs to Lily and Grace.
It was one of the last things my daughter had touched.
Two weeks later, we met Mara at a quiet café.
She studied me.
“Dora?”
Lily stiffened beside me.
Mara looked from Lily to Grace and sat very still.
Grace spoke first.
“We want to know why you left us.”
She studied me.
Mara gripped her coffee cup.
“Your father left before you were born. I had almost no money, and I didn’t know how to care for two babies alone. I panicked. I told myself that if I left you somewhere crowded, someone capable would find you and give you what I couldn’t.”
“Your father left before you were born.”
“Someone might not have,” Lily snapped.
“You’re right,” Mara said. “I told myself it was safe, but I couldn’t know that.”
“Did you ever look for us?”
“Someone might not have.”
“I called the agency once and asked whether the babies found at the airport were safe, but they couldn’t tell me anything. Years later, I met a kind man and built a life with him.”
Grace looked down at her hands. “Did you ever regret leaving us?”
“I met a kind man and built a life with him.”
Mara turned her coffee cup slowly.
“Every day. But the longer I waited, the more I convinced myself you were better off and that finding you would only disturb the life someone else had given you. It was easier to believe that than to face what I’d done.”
“I convinced myself you were better off.”
Lily pushed back her chair.
“That wasn’t fair.”
“No,” Mara whispered. “It wasn’t.”
The girls had the answers they’d come for. Grace looked at me and quietly asked if we could go home.
We left without promises.
“That wasn’t fair.”
Weeks passed.
Grace exchanged letters with Mara.
Lily wasn’t ready.
I respected both decisions.
One evening, Lily found me holding the old paper flower.
Lily wasn’t ready.
“Did our sister make that?”
I nodded.
“At school.”
Grace joined us.
“Can we see her picture?”
“Did our sister make that?”
I brought out the family album.
They studied a photograph of Lily grinning beside Daniel.
“She looks mischievous,” Grace said.
“She was.”
I brought out the family album.
Lily touched the photograph.
“Tell us about her.”
So I did.
I told them about the festival, the itchy coat, and the apple juice my first Lily always spilled.
Then Grace turned the page.
And together, we kept looking.
“Tell us about her.
