“How many times?”
“Twice.”
Renee turned toward Marcus.
“Three visits.”
“I went alone first.”
He answered.
Renee looked back at Zoe.
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“And Sunday.”
“Yes.”
“Where the first time?”
“A coffee shop.”
“Who was there?”
“Dad.”
“Lauren.”
“Anybody else?”
“No.”
“Sunday?”
Zoe swallowed.
“At her house.”
Renee sat.
She needed the chair again.
“Why?”
Zoe’s eyes filled.
“Mom.”
That word.
Renee almost flinched.
Zoe noticed.
Of course she did.
Renee forced herself not to.
“Tell me.”
Zoe rubbed both hands over the sleeves of Renee’s old sweatshirt.
“She had stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“Letters.”
Renee’s face changed.
“What letters?”
“Birthday letters.”
Marcus spoke quietly.
“Lauren kept writing after contact stopped.”
Renee turned.
“What contact?”
He looked surprised.
“The agency letters.”
“I know those.”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“After.”
Renee frowned.
Their adoption had never been fully closed.
For Zoe’s first five years, Lauren sent one letter near every birthday through the agency.
Renee and Marcus sent photographs and updates twice a year.
Then the small adoption agency merged with another organization after its founder retired.
Addresses changed.
Their family moved from Nashville to Atlanta.
Contact became inconsistent.
By Zoe’s seventh birthday, it had effectively ended.
Renee had assumed Lauren stopped writing.
Apparently she had not.
Zoe spoke.
“She has one for every birthday.”
Renee stared.
“Every birthday?”
Zoe nodded.
“Four through fourteen.”
“But we got four and five.”
“She has copies.”
“And six through fourteen?”
“Returned.”
Renee looked toward Marcus.
“Returned from where?”
“Agency office.”
“Old address.”
“Some were unopened.”
Renee’s stomach tightened.
“Did she try to find us?”
Marcus answered.
“Not directly until Zoe contacted her.”
“Why not?”
“Because the agreement said communication through the agency.”
Renee almost laughed.
“The agreement wasn't enforceable forever.”
“No.”
“She didn't know what boundaries we wanted.”
Zoe looked toward Renee.
“She said she didn't want to scare you.”
Of course.
Everyone was protecting Renee from the possibility of being scared.
Renee stood abruptly.
“I need air.”
She walked toward the back door.
Marcus started after her.
Zoe grabbed his sleeve.
“Dad.”
He stopped.
Renee heard.
She almost turned.
Did not.
Outside, the October night was cool enough to hurt.