Then he opened the door and stepped inside.
I waited several seconds.
Then I walked toward it.
My hand was shaking when I pushed the door open.
Inside was a young woman sitting upright in the hospital bed.
She was holding a newborn baby.
Flowers filled the windowsill.
A bassinette stood nearby.
David turned when he heard the door.
The moment he saw me, his face lost all color.
“Catherine.”
I looked at him.
Then I looked at the woman.
At first, all I could think was:
Who is she?
Then David moved slightly to the side.
And I saw her face clearly.
It was Emily.
My niece.
My younger sister Patricia’s daughter.
Twenty-three years old.
The girl whose birthdays I had attended.
The child who had called me Aunt Catherine since she was old enough to speak.
The niece I had not spoken to in two years.
My mind went completely blank.
Emily looked at me.
Her eyes immediately filled with tears.
The newborn shifted quietly in her arms.
David said my name again.
“Catherine.”
I looked directly at my husband.
“How long?”
“Please sit down.”
“How long have you known?”
He hesitated.
“Eight months.”
Eight months.
I had been married to this man for thirty-one years.
Emily had been my niece for twenty-three.
And for the past eight months, there had been an entire part of both their lives that neither of them had told me about.
My legs suddenly felt weak.
I sat down.
Emily didn’t speak.
Neither did David.
Finally, I said,
