For a long moment, I could not make sense of what I was reading. Then an image of my daughter Rebecca came into my mind, followed immediately by the green eyes I had noticed when Anna opened her door.
Rebecca had Anna’s eyes.
The daughter Carol and I had raised for nearly four decades was not simply an adopted child chosen by coincidence. She was the daughter Anna had given birth to, which meant she was also my biological daughter.
I kept searching and found another envelope written in handwriting I recognized immediately. Carol had addressed it to my mother.
“I can’t keep doing this. Walter still believes Anna left because she stopped loving him. I heard what you said to her that day, and I should have told him then.”
Carol admitted she had remained silent because she feared I would go after Anna if I learned the truth. She also wrote that once the baby became involved, she no longer believed what they were doing could be justified.
