happened gradually. Eventually, I couldn’t imagine our kitchen without her in it.
Early in our relationship, she told me she couldn’t have children. I told her that wouldn’t change how I felt. Later, when she suggested adoption, I discovered how badly I wanted to be a father.
We married, and soon afterward, we brought Rebecca home.
“Tell me about Sunday breakfast,” Carol murmured.
“You made cinnamon pancakes. Rebecca helped with the eggs, which meant I spent half the morning fishing shells out of the bowl.”
Carol smiled. “She was so proud of herself.”
“She still makes them for the boys. Your recipe.”
Her eyes filled, and I looked down at our hands to give her a moment.
“People always said she looked like me,” she said.
“They did.”
“Except for her eyes.”
Rebecca’s eyes were green, clear and striking. Carol had warm brown eyes, and mine were gray.
“She always
