If he preferred that she do the speaking, she would explain the purpose of her visit: to convey her family’s deepest thanks and to ask for personal forgiveness.

At no time would she lose control of her emotions.

If he wanted more—if she were lucky enough for that to happen—then of course she’d welcome him into the family as she had welcomed him into her heart.

It was dangerous for her to hope too much. Resolution was far away, best to take it one step at a time.

She knocked, the door moving forward a few inches as soon as her hand contacted the wood. She waited for the door to swing open, and when it didn’t, she peeked inside.

“Come in, Mrs. Levine,” Decker said. “Close the door and come sit down.”

He adjusted the bed upward, studying the woman who’d given him half his gene pool. She wore a gray tweed jacket, a red blouse, and a black wool pleated skirt. Her legs were encased in black stockings; on her feet were sensible flat shoes. Draped around her neck was a wool red and black knit scarf. Her wig was blunt cut, the artificial tresses salt-and-pepper-colored, her eyes hidden behind tortoiseshell glasses. A black bag was slung over her shoulder. The only makeup Decker could detect was a spot of rouge on each cheek.

She cut a handsome demeanor—very professorial.

Frieda sat, draping her scarf and bag over the back of the chair. “It was very nice of you to see me.”

“I want to thank you for giving me blood,” Decker said.

“It…” Her throat was clogged. No, this would never do. She cleared her throat. “Let me see. Where do I begin? My family…”

She stopped, aware that she was hoarse. She cleared her throat again.

“Would you like a glass of water?” Decker asked.

“No, thank you, Akiva,” Frieda said. “I’m fine.”

Decker waited for her to continue. She fumbled for her bag and pulled out a white envelope.

“This is from Ezra,” she said, “and Breina of course. At some time later…when you’re up to it, they would like to talk to you in person. Thank you personally…” She pulled out two more envelopes. “This one’s from…let me see…” She turned the envelope over. “This is from Shimmy and this one’s from Yonasan. Not only do we talk a lot, we write a lot.”

She smiled weakly.

Decker said thank you and took the proffered envelopes. They were thick, at least four or five sheets. He put the letters on his nightstand.

Frieda said, “The girls…Miriam and Faygie…they say thank you.” She felt her eyes well up, turned her head, and cleared her throat for the fourth time. “The girls wanted to bake you a cake.”

Decker smiled.