“After our first meeting, Miriam sent me a wedding card. I wrote back. Then she sent another letter. We corresponded occasionally.”
“Father knew?”
“Yes.”
“And later?”
“Later, when I was pregnant with you, she had moved back to Connecticut. She came through New York for work. I invited her to lunch.”
Mother looked at Clara.
“She knew your father in a way I did not. Not better. Differently. When I was terrified about becoming a mother, she told me stories about him when he was young.”
“Did she already have Clara?”
“No.”
The timeline settled.
Clara had not yet been born.
Mother touched the photograph again.
“You arrived early, Bennett.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“I had been expecting another three weeks. Miriam happened to be in the city.”
“She came to the hospital?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I asked her.”
Mother smiled.
“Your father was trying to appear calm and failing badly. My own mother was traveling. Miriam came because I didn’t want to be alone before Thomas returned from speaking with the doctor.”
