“You should have told me,” she said quietly, drawing back to look at him.
“Why? You were never to find out. What does it matter that there was another baby? You’re our daughter, and we love you so much. You’re our world.”
“You’re each other’s world, Dad, and I’m okay with that.” She shifted away and looked around the room. “You did this for her, didn’t you? The room, the mural. All of it. This was to be her room.”
“It was your room.”
She shook her head. “Don’t start lying to me now. You never have before.”
He stared at the floor for a second, then looked back at her. “Yes, it was intended to be her room.”
Something she’d guessed, but wow, the words still hit her like a fist.
“It’s why Mom and I don’t get along. It’s not that we’re different, it’s that she was supposed to get Shannon and she didn’t. I was always the wrong baby.”
“You were exactly right. Yes, we were disappointed whenCindy changed her mind, but that made you even more of a miracle.”
“Oh, please. You know it wasn’t like that.” She thought about the chance meeting. “You should have seen them. Cindy and Shannon and Mom. They look so much alike. Not just the tall, blonde thing, but all of it. Their build, the shape of their faces. They look like family. I never looked like either of you.”
“We don’t care about that.” His tone pleaded. “Victoria, we love you. I wish you could hear me saying that.”
“I think you love me now, but I don’t think you wanted me back then. Not the way you wanted Shannon.”
She struggled to her feet. Her father stood and held out a hand to help her. When she was upright, he handed her the crutches.
“Do you want to go lie down?” he asked. “I could sit with you. Maybe read to you.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not five. I want to get one of the memory boxes.”
His expression turned wary. “Victoria, no. There’s no need to—”
She cut him off. “I’m going to do it, Dad. You can help me or you can let me struggle, but I’m getting my baby box.”
He seemed to fold in on himself for a second, then he straightened and nodded. “I’ll help.”
They made their way into the hallway, which was thankfully empty. She wasn’t ready to deal with her mother just yet. Her dad opened one of the cupboard doors. Inside were stacks of fabric-covered boxes, all neatly labeled. Her mother could not only organize the world, she could catalog it as well. Victoria scanned the labels until she saw the one markedVictoria’s First Year.
“That one,” she said, nodding at it.
Her father lifted it down and followed her into her room. He set the box on the desk, then lifted off the cover. She rested her crutches against the bed before hopping over to the chair and sitting down.
There was a slim photo album, stacks of pictures, a tiny stuffed giraffe, baby booties and a lace cap. She ignored the clothing and the toy, instead reaching for the loose photographs and flipping through them.
They seemed to have been put away in reverse order. She was older in the top ones, getting younger and smaller as she went down the pile. Finally she reached the ones of her mother holding an obviously newborn her, Milton at her side.
Victoria studied the picture, noting how awkwardly her mother held her, as if she weren’t used to holding a baby. Or was it something else?
“She doesn’t look happy,” she murmured.
Her father glanced over her shoulder. “That’s the day you came home from the hospital. We were both terrified.”
Victoria wanted that to be the truth, but she had her doubts. “How long after you lost Shannon did my biological mother tell you she was pregnant?”
“It was a while,” her father hedged.
She stared at him. He sighed.
“A few weeks.”
