Below it was Ellie’s.
Then came the conclusion.
The genetic findings suggested a biological parent-child relationship.
I read the words once.
Then again.
My mind refused to accept them.
“That can’t be right.”
Nora covered her mouth.
“Claire…”
“My daughter died.”
“I know what they told you.”
“I have her death certificate.”
Tears began running down Nora’s face.
“I know.”
I stood so quickly that my chair scraped against the floor.
“No. There has to be a mistake.”
I walked to the kitchen sink and gripped the edge of the counter.
Outside, someone was walking a dog.
A delivery\
truck stopped across the street.
The neighborhood looked exactly as it always did.
Yet everything inside my world had changed.
I turned back toward my sister.
“Are you saying Ellie might be Lucy?”
Nora nodded through her tears.
“I think it’s possible.”
My knees felt weak.
For five years, I’d lived with the knowledge that my baby was gone.
I’d visited her grave.
Kept her bracelet.
Remembered her birthday.
And now my sister was telling me that the little girl I’d been brushing hair for might be the daughter I’d lost.
“Does Ellie know?” I asked.
