Moja córka zmarła przy porodzie, a ja samotnie wychowałam jej syna – 10 lat później nieznajoma kobieta przy jej grobie powiedziała: „Złożyłam twojej córce obietnicę. Czas, żebyś poznała prawdę”.

“I understand.”

“There’s something else I need.”

We met the next afternoon.

This time, I wasn’t there to discuss Lucas’s father.

I was there for my daughter.

“Was Teagan scared?”

Trudy’s expression softened.

“Yes.”

“Was she alone?”

“No. There were people with her the entire time.”

The answer hit me harder than I expected.

“Did she ask for me?”

“Yes.”

My throat tightened.

“Did she think I had left?”

“No. She knew you were waiting nearby.”

“What did she say?”

Trudy thought for a moment.

“She was worried she hadn’t bought enough diapers.”

I laughed through my tears.

“That sounds exactly like her.”

“Then she talked about you.”

I looked up.

“What did she say?”

“She said you made pancakes too thick and refused to admit it.”

A laugh escaped me.

Even after ten years, Teagan could still embarrass me.

Then Trudy said,

“She wasn’t angry with you.”

“She should have been. I spent so much time asking about Lucas’s father that I forgot to ask my own daughter what she was afraid of.”