Waiting for the results was miserable.
***
One afternoon, Nora sent me a photograph.
Ellie was sitting on the living room rug, building a tower from colorful blocks.
Her hair was in two crooked pigtails.
ELLIE DID THESE HERSELF, Nora wrote.
Nora sent me a photograph.
I enlarged the picture.
Ellie was smiling proudly.
I wanted to drive straight to Nora’s house.
Instead, I called her.
“How is she?”
I enlarged the picture.
“Good. She’s asking when you’re coming over.”
“Tell her soon.”
***
A week later, the independent result arrived.
This time, the report was clear.
The genetic findings confirmed that Ellie was my biological daughter.
The report was clear.
I called Nora.
She answered immediately.
“Claire?”
“It’s confirmed.”
I heard her inhale.
Neither of us spoke for several seconds.
“It’s confirmed.”
Then Nora said, “Come over.”