The wait for results lasted longer in my head than the calendar suggested.

During that time I told my mother, Eleanor Bradford, what I had learned.

She lived in a brick house near Lake Minnetonka and had always admired Hannah, though she had been too polite to say much when our marriage ended.

“You have children?” she asked, sitting very still.

“Possibly.

We are doing a test.”

“And Hannah tried to tell you?”

“Yes.”