Then several photographs that were unmistakably a maternity shoot.
I grabbed a piece of paper and started checking dates. My fingers trembled as I counted backward.
An ultrasound image.
Daniel had died months before that baby would have been born.
“Who are you?” I whispered at the woman on the screen.
Was the baby Daniel’s? Why hadn’t he told me?
Had he planned to?
And then came the question that made my heart pound harder than all the others.
What if that child was still out there?
I was going to find her.
I stared at the photographs for another moment, then pulled a notebook toward me.
I had lost Daniel once without knowing the whole story.
I wasn’t going to walk away from it now.
Somewhere in those photographs was a woman who might have carried my son’s child.
And I was going to find her.
I had lost Daniel once
