Memories returned to me in pieces.

A discharge room painted pale green.

Claire sleeping inside a carrier.

A nurse tucking the cream blanket around her.

Someone mentioning that she liked humming.

Someone warning that she would kick one foot free whenever she became too warm.

I remembered a woman standing near the doorway after the adoption papers were signed.

I had never studied her face.

“That was you,” I breathed.

Rose nodded.

“I couldn’t stay.”

She looked directly at me.

“Because you were becoming her mother, and I had already taken up enough space in that room.”

Richard tapped the old note.

“She gave me this outside the hospital. She asked me never to let Claire grow up feeling discarded.

A muscle moved in his cheek.

“I told myself Claire was too young to understand.”

Rose turned toward him.

“You should have told your wife.”

Richard lowered his eyes.