I promised not to pressure her. And I want her to know she’s in control of this. As much as I want to give her answers, I don’t have them, and I’m not sure I can find them. So right now, I just want to make sure she doesn’t feel alone.

I hold her a little tighter. She didn’t open up to me for answers. She knows I don’t have them. She just needs me to be there for her. I can do that. I will do it. Seeing her in pain in a way that hurts the core of who she is is all wrong. Lark deserves better.

She says, “No one’s perfect, but the little I’ve gotten from my dad is that she never asked for this life. She was from a whole other world and got stuck here in a run-down shack with a kid and a mechanic.”

“Your dad’s a mechanic?” This is new information. Amanda sharing with me that he likes cars is an understatement. He’s a trained professional. No wonder he knew what my car was just from a quick glance. This is something I can work with.

She nods against my chest. Angling to look at me, she fidgets with the hem of my shirt. “She was young, about the same age we are now, so I try to give her the benefit of the doubt. She was overwhelmed and cut off from her family. That’s all I know. It must be why she abandoned me.” Suddenly looking at me, she asks, “What do you think?”

What do I think?

“Um,” I start, not sure what to say. “I don’t know. It sounds like there’s a lot of information missing. That must make it hard to move forward.”

“Yeah. It does. It’s like, if I could just get a fuller picture of the situation, I’d be able to close that chapter. Instead, I’ve been left in limbo my whole life.”

“Is there anyone else you can ask? Grandparents? Siblings of your parents?”

“No, my dad’s parents split up when he was young. My grandfather took off, and my grandmother died before I was born. As for Liz, something in my gut tells me she’s still alive. I don’t know anything about her family, though. My dad was really kept out of their lives. They never approved of them or their marriage.”

Lark pushes off the couch and from my lap. She pads across the room into the kitchen, and without needing to ask, she pours us both a glass of water. I follow her in there, holding her by the hips and kissing the side of her head. That’s when it dawns on me that I’m holding her the same way Dad held Mom.

My instinct is to push away and change positions, but my head tells me to stay. Because they’re my parents, I’ve always given them a hard time about their PDA. But the way they publicly showed each other love was modeling the behavior.