That was when we decided to marry and become a family.
“Walt.”
“I’m right here.”
“Tell me about Sunday breakfasts. When Rebecca was little.”
“You made cinnamon pancakes. Our daughter sat on the counter cracking eggs and getting shells in the bowl.”
“She looked so much like me back then.”
“She still does.”
People around Millfield used to say Rebecca had her mother’s entire face.
“Except those green eyes,” I said. “They always made her stand out.”
Carol turned her face away.
“They certainly did.”
She stayed silent for a moment.
“Your mother would’ve loved seeing her grown.”
I thought about Ruth, my mother, who had died ten years earlier.
Half of Millfield still remembered her as a saint. She’d taught Sunday school for forty years and never failed to bring a casserole to a grieving neighbor.
“Mama would’ve spoiled her rotten.”
Carol’s fingers suddenly tightened around mine.
“Walt, I’ve been a good wife to you, haven’t I?”
The question caught me off guard.
“You’ve been the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I need you to promise me something. Say yes before I tell you what it is.”
After thirty-six years together, there was no reason to hesitate.
“Anything.”
Carol slowly drew in a breath.
“Find Anna, please. You’ll understand everything once you find her. And please… forgive me in advance.”
The name hit me like a stone dropped into still water.
Anna.
A woman I hadn’t seen in forty years.
