“Of me?”
“No.”
The answer came quickly enough that I believed it.
“Then of what?”
“Going back.”
I stared at her.
She rubbed her thumb against her palm.
“I had been unhappy for months before the crash.”
The words landed quietly.
That somehow made them worse.
“You never told me.”
“I didn’t know how.”
“So you died instead?”
She looked away.
“When Mom arrived at the hospital, I told her I couldn’t go back yet.
I said I needed time.
She said everyone already believed I was dead.”
“And she helped you keep it that way.”
Mia nodded.
I thought of Martha at the funeral, clutching my arm and sobbing.
“My Mia… my only child…”
I remembered holding her up.
Comforting her.
Promising her money.
My stomach turned.
“The body in the coffin?” I asked.
Mia’s voice dropped.
“The authorities believed identification had been made from personal effects and dental information provided during the confusion.
Mom reinforced it.
By the time questions surfaced, she had already pushed for a closed service.”
I shook my head slowly.
“She lied to everyone.”
“So did I.”
At least she did not hide behind her mother.
I looked through the narrow opening of the door.
A warm lamp glowed inside.
A child’s drawing lay on a table, turned facedown enough that I could not make out details.
“Why Lily?”
Mia’s eyes closed again.
“Because I found out I was pregnant six weeks after the crash.”
The porch seemed to tilt beneath me.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“You knew I had a daughter.”
“Yes.”
“And you kept her from me for four years.”
Tears finally slipped down Mia’s face.
“I told myself I was protecting the life I had already created.”
“From what?”
“From everything collapsing.”
“It should have collapsed.”
She looked at me.
“You should have come home.”
“I know.”
“You should have told me you were alive.”
“I know.”
