She had been young.
Unmarried.
Terrified.
Her parents had pressured her into giving him up.
That was all she ever said.
I never asked for his name.
I never asked where he went.
By the time I became old enough to understand how much that secret must have hurt her, she refused to discuss it again.
So when Lily asked about it, I told her the truth.
“Your grandmother mentioned a baby once. Why?”
Lily had stared at her plate.
“No reason.”
Now, standing in our hallway in her graduation gown, she had that same guilty look.
I picked up my keys.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Really?”
“Dad.”
“I know that tone. That means stop asking.”
She smiled.
“Exactly.”
