Rachel said nothing.
My mother continued, “Evan is emotional right now. That’s understandable. But before anyone makes accusations, there are things he doesn’t know about that time. Things you didn’t know either.”
I stepped toward the phone. “Then tell me.”
Silence.
“Evan,” my mother said at last, softly. “I was hoping you would call me first.”
“You knew about the children?”
A pause.
“I knew there was a possibility.”
Rachel gripped the counter so hard her knuckles whitened. “A possibility?”
“I received your first letter before Evan did,” my mother said. “It came to the house in error, forwarded from an old address. I made a decision I believed was necessary at the time.”
The apartment seemed to fall away.
“What decision?” I asked.
My mother’s voice changed. For the first time in my life, she sounded uncertain. “Not over the phone.”
“No,” I said. “Now.”
