Several weeks before Lucas was born, Teagan had walked into the kitchen late one evening.
“Mom, can I ask you something?”
I had been tired and frustrated.
“If this is about the baby’s father, Teagan, I don’t want to argue tonight.”
She had stood quietly for several seconds.
“Never mind,” she said.
Then she walked away.
For ten years, I had remembered that moment as proof that Teagan didn’t trust me.
Now I wondered whether I had misunderstood her completely.
The following day, I called Trudy.
We met at a quiet café.
She told me that Teagan had been frightened and uncertain during those final days, but she had never stopped thinking about her family.
“She talked about you,” Trudy said.
“What did she say?”
“She joked that you made the thickest pancakes in the world.”
I laughed despite myself.
That sounded exactly like my daughter.
Then Trudy told me something else.
