“But I want her first memory of meeting you to be safe, not frightening.”

Camilla took a breath.

“Then tell me what she likes.

I can write about that.” She drafted a letter explaining that she loved stars and the ocean, that she had once known Lucas, and that some adults had made mistakes that kept them apart.

It did not call herself Mommy.

It did not demand a hug.

It ended with, If you ever want to meet me, I would be very happy.

If you need more time, I understand.