“How do you know what was inside?”
“She opened it. I saw money.”
“What happened after that?”
“She took the bundle away.”
“What bundle?”
Willie swallowed.
“The crying one.”
I stared at him.
“You heard a baby crying?”
He nodded.
“The lady picked the baby up. I couldn’t see her face at first. Then Daddy touched the baby’s head.”
I gripped the mattress.
“Willie, did you know her?”
He nodded again.
“You know her too, Mommy.”
“Who?”
“She came to see you the next day.”
Faces flashed through my mind, but I couldn’t place who he meant.
“Willie. Who was she?”
His lip trembled.
“You know her too, Mommy.”
“Who?”
Finally, he whispered:
“Aunt Claire.”
I went still.
Claire was Robert’s younger sister.
Her daughter, Ivy, had been born only weeks before Claudia was due. Everyone had joked that the girls would grow up together—sharing birthdays, attending school together, eventually becoming inseparable cousins.
Claire visited me the day after Claudia died.
She barely looked at me before whispering, “I’m so sorry, Mel.”
At the time, I assumed she was simply grieving with us.
Now I wasn’t sure.
I looked at Willie.
“Mom?”
“Go downstairs for me.”
He hesitated.
“Are you going to ask Dad?”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
I waited until he left, took a deep breath, and went downstairs.
Robert stood at the kitchen sink scrubbing an already spotless pan.
“Robert.”
He didn’t turn.
“Hey.”
“Stop.”
He kept scrubbing for another second.
“Put the sponge down and look at me.”
His hand slowed.
Then he turned.
His expression changed the moment he saw my face.
“What happened?”
“Why was Claire at the hospital that night?”
For half a second, fear crossed his face.
Then it vanished.
