placement had already been discussed with the social worker.”
“By me?”
He looked away.
That answer was enough.
“By my mom,” I said. “Right?”
Watson’s voice broke.
“We buried him.”
Doctor Jefferson swallowed.
“Your mother arranged the memorial. I was told you and Watson understood there would be no viewing.”
“The family?” I asked. “Or her?”
He said nothing.
I stared at him.
“Did you ever ask me, without my mom in the room, if I wanted my son placed with another family?”
Doctor Jefferson lowered his gaze.
“No.”
“Did
