Sophie’s stomach tightened.
“Did anyone know?”
Margaret shook her head.
“Women didn’t talk about those things then.”
“At least women like me didn’t.”
“My mother told me marriage was difficult.”
“My pastor told me to pray harder.”
“My doctor asked whether I was clumsy.”
“I said yes.”
Her voice turned bitter.
“So everyone got what they wanted.”
“A simple explanation.”
Sophie looked toward the door.
“Was the scar from him?”
Margaret went still.
“Yes.”
She stared at the carpet.
“It happened forty years ago.”
Sophie waited.
Margaret took a slow breath.
“Nathan was nine.”
“And my daughter was seven.”
Sophie looked up.
“Your daughter?”
Margaret turned sharply.
Sophie immediately realized the mistake.
Margaret’s file listed one child.
Nathan.
No daughter.
Margaret’s eyes filled with tears.
“Yes.”
“My daughter.”
Sophie felt the room change.
“What was her name?”
Margaret’s lips trembled.
“Emily.”
The name came out like a prayer.
