The letter had an old return address in Madison.

Through Joan, I hired a limited, legal contact search, without requesting medical information or private addresses.

Months later a reply arrived at the law office.

My mother agreed to meet at a café whenever I wanted.

I went with Dana, who waited at another table.

Helen had my same way of furrowing her brow.

As soon as she saw me, she stood up and then stopped, as if she didn’t know whether she was allowed to come closer.

“They told you I was dead,” she murmured.