The same flower. The exact same flower.
People in the barn started to gasp. I heard somebody whisper, “Oh my God.” I heard a chair scrape at one of the back tables.
“Three weeks ago,” Hannah said, “I asked my mom if I could borrow something blue. And she
gave me this. It was her mother’s handkerchief. She told me she’d embroidered the flowers on it herself.” Tears were running down Hannah’s face now. “And I stood in her living room and looked at those violets, and I couldn’t breathe. Because I’d seen that flower before. Hundreds of times.Track Pregnancy
I’d fallen asleep with it under my pillow.”
She turned and looked straight at me.
“It was you,” she said. “It was always you.”
The whole barn turned to look at me.
I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move. I just sat there with Mark’s hands wrapped around mine, crying so hard I could barely see.
