The other was whether keeping Harper from all her maternal relatives would protect her, or simply repeat a different kind of absence.

I would not answer the second question out of pity for the first.

I stood and moved toward the window.

From four floors up, the hospital parking lot looked strangely peaceful.

People carried flowers, pushed wheelchairs, and went home with news that would change their lives.

My own life had been changed long before, on Highway 9, and still I was here learning there were things I had not understood.

“Before Harper comes here,” I said, “if she comes, you need to know she does not owe you hugs, forgiveness, or anything else.