Unable to provide a stable home, she had made the heartbreaking decision to place her daughter for adoption.
That little girl was Emily.
Years later, my mother married my father, and I was born.
But she never forgot her first child.
“Your mother dreamed of finding her daughter someday,” my father whispered. “She talked about her constantly.”
Tears rolled down my face.
“But Emily and I became friends when we were children!”
“I know,” he answered. “When you two became inseparable, I noticed the resemblance. Later, after speaking with Emily’s adoptive mother, we began to suspect the truth.”
“Then why keep it secret?”
“We were afraid of being wrong. And as the years passed, we became afraid of admitting how long we’d remained silent.”
I was hurt and angry.
But I could see how deeply he regretted his decision.
The following afternoon, Emily came with me to visit him.
