He had the same one from a workshop accident.
Anna stood.
“Claire?”
I nodded.
She smiled nervously.
“You look like Evelyn.”
My mother.
The sound of her name from a stranger almost broke me.
“You knew my mother?”
“Once.”
We sat.
Neither touched the tea.
Finally I asked, “Why didn’t you find me later?”
Anna looked toward the sea.
“I did.”
“When?”
“After Michael passed away.”
“And?”
“Charles told me you knew about me and wanted no contact.”
I shut my eyes.
Of course.
“What exactly did he say?”
“That you believed I was trying to claim money.”
“I was twenty-one. I barely knew there was money.”
“I know that now.”
Anna laughed sadly.
“I spent years thinking my sister hated me.”
“I spent years thinking I didn’t have one.”
We sat in silence.
Then she reached into her handbag.
“I brought something.”
A photograph.
My father standing between two girls.
