She stepped aside.
“You should come in.”
Her Name Was Matilda
We sat around a small kitchen table.
The man introduced himself as William, her husband.
The woman folded her hands in front of her.
“My name is Matilda,” she said. “And I think I may understand what happened.”
She explained that she had been placed in foster care as an infant.
For as long as she could remember, she had known there might have been another baby—a twin sister.
The records were incomplete. Names had been removed, and the two children had been sent to different families in different states.
As an adult, Matilda had spent years searching.
She contacted agencies, requested records, and followed every lead she could find.
Each search ended in disappointment.
Eventually, the constant hope and heartbreak became too painful, and she stopped.
“What was your mother’s name?” she asked Noah softly.
