Nothing else.
Dr. Whitaker hesitated.
“He also said you don’t have to open it today.”
A laugh escaped me before I could stop it.
“How thoughtful of him.”
He gave me a small, sad smile.
And I walked out of that hospital holding the last secret my husband had ever kept from me.
Part Two: Before the Secrets
Two months earlier, there had been no secrets in our marriage.
There had only been baby names.
“Absolutely not,” I told Daniel.
“You didn’t even think about it.”
“You said Marigold.”
We were on the porch swing, his palm spread across my six-month belly as though he could hold her there forever.
“It’s a beautiful name.”
“For a flower. Or a golden retriever.”
Daniel laughed.
Even then, the laugh caught somewhere in his chest, a small rattle neither of us mentioned.
“Fine. Rosalie.”
I turned to look at him.
“Rosalie?”
“My grandmother used to hum a song with that name in it. Every Sunday, over the dishes.”
“You told me she couldn’t carry a tune to save her life.”
“Still counts.”
