But that is not the secret I have struggled most to tell you.
Emma’s hands began to shake.
Several months after Sophie was born, Lucas’s mother returned to our house. She came alone.
She was crying. She said she had not agreed with her husband’s decisions, but she had been too afraid to stand against him. She begged me to let her see her granddaughter.
I told her that Sophie was your daughter, and that no decision about her future could be made without you.
She left a photograph, her address, and a message asking me to contact her when you were ready.
I kept those things.
At first, I wanted to protect you while you recovered. Later, I was afraid that telling you would bring back the pain you had worked so hard to overcome.
I told myself I was protecting you. Perhaps, in some ways, I was also protecting myself from having to watch you suffer again.