Eventually, Anna asked whether Rebecca knew the truth. I told her she did not, and the answer immediately created another problem neither of us could avoid.
“Are you going to tell her?”
I thought about Rebecca, who had buried Carol only weeks earlier and was still grieving the woman she had always believed was simply her adoptive mother. Telling her the truth would mean explaining that Carol had known the identity of her biological parents for nearly her entire life and had chosen to keep it hidden.
“I don’t know how.”Anna looked toward the bundle of letters in my hands.
“Neither did Carol, apparently.”
I admitted that I was afraid the truth would destroy Rebecca’s memories of the woman who had raised her. Anna listened quietly before reminding me that Ruth had already spent decades deciding what other people were allowed to know.
“Your mother decided what I was allowed to know. Carol decided what you were allowed to know.”
