“I’m not afraid of Owen.”
“You looked terrified when I entered.”
Marjorie lowered her eyes.
“I was afraid you would learn the truth.”
The room suddenly felt smaller.
“What truth?”
She looked toward Owen.
He remained seated, staring at the floor.
At last, Marjorie took a shaking breath.
“His mother was my daughter.”
For several seconds, I could not speak.
“You told me you never had children.”
“I told everyone that.”
Owen stood and pulled one side of the curtain open.
A thin beam of sunlight stretched across the floor.
Marjorie stared at it as she continued.
“I was seventeen when Ruth was born. My parents sent me away before anyone could discover I was pregnant. They told our neighbors I was visiting distant relatives.”
Her voice cracked.
“After the delivery, they arranged the adoption. They barely allowed me to see her. I remember touching the side of her face, but then they carried her away.”
