I watch from the sidelines again as the conversation moves back to mostly Sam and Lorna talking, with my sister interjecting from time to time. Lorna asks Sam about school, about his favorite subjects, his hobbies, and tells him about some interests of her own, bringing over a fossil on the mantelpiece for him to hold and look at. Mostly I watch Lorna as she talks, noticing all the things that are specific to her and not like anyone in our family: her accent, her clothing, the piled-up way she wears her hair. She seems interesting, and strong-willed, and likable…but she doesn’t feel like part of my family. And I realize part of me is waiting for something to click into place and for her to suddenly become someone I know; someone I feel connected to. It doesn’t really happen, which I guess after all isn’t surprising. It occurs to me that this fascinating room with its museum’s worth of objects isn’t just a collection of souvenirs, it’s a monument to Lorna’s life—the life she built without a trace of Abigail in it. A life of adventures and experiences and not looking back. And I wonder if Abigail expected more looking back. If she expected regret.

“How come you never visited?” Sam says then. I can tell he knows it’s a potentially dangerous question; he doesn’t ask it in the bright-voiced way a younger child might. But he asks it anyway.

“I mean, I can understand that you didn’t want a baby back then. And I guess I sort of understand why you all wanted it to be a secret. But how come you didn’t ever visit?”

Lorna looks at him.

“Well, you know, Sam…I was terribly fond of your grandfather, he was a very good big brother. But we didn’t really grow up being close as a family. I don’t think I felt terribly…connected, to the siblings I grew up with. And then, after everything with your mom, I think visiting your grandpa and Gloria would have been harder on everyone. I suppose it just seemed cleaner to stay away.” She pauses. “Your grandfather sent me pictures though. He sent one of your mom every year. And then, after you were born, pictures of you.”

Sam stares.

“Really? I didn’t know about you but…you knew all about me?”

Lorna nods. “It’s rather imbalanced, I know. But I was grateful to your father. It gave me pleasure to see those pictures of you. I remember one year there was one of you on a red bike.”

“I remember that bike,” Sam says, awed.

Lorna takes another sip from her water glass.