knew about the pregnancy. He chose to leave.”
His voice became perfectly calm.
“That is the answer you drove all this way for. Take your daughter and go home.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“That is not my concern. Please get off my porch.”
I stepped backward into the garden.
Suddenly, something opened inside my memory.
A woman crying at a doorway.
My mother’s hand gripping mine.
A man’s voice following us down these same steps.
“Don’t come back.”
Then another image.
A little boy running barefoot behind us.
Mismatched eyes.
