I felt tears gathering in my eyes.
“Please, Doctor. Just tell us whether our babies are safe.”
“We’re doing everything we can to establish that. I don’t want to frighten you with an incomplete result.”
He ordered additional genetic tests for both of us.
The next six days felt like six years.
I barely slept.
Every time my baby moved, I placed my hand on my stomach and whispered that everything would be okay.
I began searching my memories for clues.
My mother’s face.
Her voice.
The stories my father used to tell.
Why had he always avoided discussing her childhood?
Why had he never mentioned any relatives on her side of the family?
And why did Emily and I look so much alike?
One evening, Emily came over with two cups of tea.
She looked exhausted.
“I’ve been thinking about something,” she said.
“What?”
“Do you remember when we were teenagers and your father saw us standing together in the garden?”
