“How long ago?”
“Eight years.”
“I’m sorry.”
“She’d been sick for a long time.”
I remembered what Douglas had told me.
He couldn’t abandon her.
Some younger version of myself might have resented that.
The woman I had become understood it completely.
“You loved her very much.”
“She was my mother.”
“Yes.”
Lucas looked at his father.
“Dad took care of her every day.”
There was no accusation in his voice.
Only admiration.
“He cooked terribly.”
“Still?”
“Catastrophically.”
“Good to know some things survived.”
Lucas smiled.
Then his expression grew serious.
“She asked him to find you before she died.”
My fingers tightened around the coffee cup.
“She did?”
“Her last good day.”
I looked at Douglas.
He was asleep.
“She told him she didn’t want the lie to outlive her.”
I blinked away tears.
“I wish I could have met her.”
Lucas nodded slowly.
“She wished that too.”
