“Mama’s here, darling,” she said. “Mama’s finally here with you, yes she is.”

Sounds good, but where the hell have you been all this time? Troy almost asked. He hadn’t asked this woman much of anything after she’d revealed herself to him outside the church. He had been too surprised to know what to ask. He’d only agreed to bring Monica to her after the memorial service had concluded and before everyone left for the burial.

Hell, he hadn’t thought to even ask her name.

“Make yourself useful and go fetch her some water, doctor,” the woman said, in the tone of one used to dispensing orders. She waved him away. “Go on, now.”

Troy blinked. Under any other circumstances, he wouldn’t have tolerated that tone from anyone, much less a stranger, Monica’s birth mother or not. But Monica needed him, and for her, he was willing to set aside his ego. He rose from the pew and left the sanctuary.

Downstairs, the church staff was setting up for the repast, which would commence after the burial. Troy grabbed a bottle of water from the beverage table, and returned back upstairs. He was about to head back into the sanctuary when he felt a tap on his arm.

He turned. The old pastor—Reverend McBride, was it?—had reached out with his wooden walking cane and prodded Troy.

“Where is your wife?” the reverend asked. “We didn’t finish our conversation.”

“She’s preoccupied at the moment,” Troy said. He wanted to get back to Monica and wasn’t interested in wasting time talking to this guy. “Why don’t you call her at home later on?”

Much to Troy’s surprise, the old man slipped a late model iPhone out of his suit pocket. The man had to be damn near eighty, and Troy didn’t know many octogenarians who were fluent with the latest technology.

“Give me the number, son,” McBride said.

Troy recited their home phone number. McBride entered the digits into his phone with steady fingers, repeated the number back to Troy, and nodded with satisfaction.

“I’ll be calling on her soon,” McBride said. “We’ve much to discuss. As I told her, when the Lord closes one door, He opens another.”

Brother, you ain’t lying, Troy thought. He glanced inside the sanctuary at the seated figures of his wife, and her newfound mother. It looked as if Monica had regained consciousness. The two women were speaking, both of them clearly excited.

Troy decided to hang back for a few minutes, and give them some privacy. It wasn’t every day that you met your mother for the very first time. They would have a lot to talk about, a lot of catching up to do. He wanted to let the moment last a little while longer.

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