“Because I was afraid,” she said.
“Of what?”
“Of you looking at me the way you’re looking at me right now.”
I didn’t say anything.
“I promised Harold Calloway I’d never tell,” she said. “And then after your father died, I thought, what’s the point? Michael’s gone. Ruth has her own family. Why stir it all up? Why hurt anybody?” She shook her head. “But that wasn’t really it, Daniel. Not really.”
“Then what was it?”
Her chin trembled.
“I lost Grace,” she said. “And then I lost Frank. And then I lost Michael. You were all I had left. You were the only one left who was mine.” She was crying now. “And I was so afraid that if you knew the truth, if you knew I wasn’t really your blood, you’d stop being mine.”
I looked at her for a long time.
