Barb crossed her arms.
“I told him to keep quiet,” she said. “People already judged us at church. An out-of-wedlock baby? And then adopting her? It would have been humiliating.”
Laine snapped before I could.
“The only humiliation here is you rejecting your granddaughter.”
Barb’s lips thinned. “She’s a reminder of his mistake.”
“She’s a child,” I said. “My child.”
A small tug at my dress interrupted us.
Jane stood there, rubbing her eyes.
“Why are you mad at Daddy?” she asked softly.
I dropped to my knees and pulled her into my arms.
“You did nothing wrong,” I whispered into her hair. “Nothing at all.”
She studied my face, then brightened slightly.
“Can I have cake now?”
Laine smiled gently. “Absolutely. Biggest slice in the house.”
Jane skipped toward the kitchen, bunny under her arm.
Barb looked around stiffly.
“I won’t stay where I’m not wanted.”
“Then don’t,” I said, opening the door.
She waited for Eade to stop her.
He didn’t.
When the door shut, silence filled the house.
“I never meant to hurt you,” Eade said, shoulders slumped.
I looked toward the kitchen where Jane’s laughter floated out.
“I wanted a baby so badly,” I said quietly. “When we couldn’t… I felt like I failed you. Failed myself. Then Jane came. And I didn’t care how. She made me whole.”
“I know.”
“But you don’t get to lie to me,” I said. “Not about something this big.”
“I was scared,” he admitted. “I am still scared.”
I wiped my cheeks.
“We’ll tell her someday,” I said. “When she’s ready. And we’ll get therapy. We’ll do it right. No more secrets.”
“I promise.”
That night, after the house was quiet and frosting still clung to strands of her hair, I stood over Jane’s bed.
She slept with Bunny tucked under her chin, mouth slightly open, peaceful.
Biology or not, secret or not, she was mine.
Not because of blood.
Not because of fate.
But because loving her had remade me.
She made me a mother.
And that was the only truth that mattered.
