“Has she ever tried to contact us?”
“Not directly. Your father protected her information, but he never wanted to force a meeting. He felt the decision had to be yours.”
Emma looked at the photos.
In one, a teenage boy stood next to a woman in her forties. The boy’s expression was impassive, even rebellious. But the woman looked directly at the camera with a sadness Emma couldn’t describe.
There was a name on the back.
Helena
Lucas’s mother
Emma slipped the photo into her bag.
“Do you know where she lives now?”
“I don’t know her current address,” Elisabeth replied. “But maybe I can help you find it.”
Emma got up to leave but stopped at the door.
“Do you think my father was right to hide this from me?”Emma looked towards the window.
“I don’t know. Part of me yearns for answers. Another part fears that opening this door will bring back everything I fought so hard to leave behind.”
