For a moment, I couldn’t speak.
“Both babies?”
“Yes.”
I gripped the edge of the table.
“Then why did Mark tell me one of them died?”
Susan said nothing.
“He knew both were alive?”
“Yes.”
“And he let me believe my baby was dead for eighteen years?”
“Rachel…”
“No. One of them died. My husband told me.”
Susan’s eyes filled with tears.
“That isn’t what I remember.”
Suddenly, memories I’d buried for years began to return.
Before the twins were born, Mark and I had sat at our kitchen table, staring at our bills.
“We’re going to need two of everything,” I’d said.
Mark rubbed his forehead.
“With what money? We’re eighteen, Rachel.”
“Nineteen for you,” I teased.
“That doesn’t make this better.”
I reached across the table and took his hand.
“We knew there were two babies. We’re keeping both.”
