Part 2: Before my husband passed away, he asked me to deliver a sealed letter to a woman I'd never met — after she read the first line, she looked at me and asked, "Did he tell you everything?"

"Three years after Henry died, I adopted a little girl."

I stopped breathing.

"A baby?"

Catherine nodded.

"She was only a few days old."

I stared at her.

"Where did she come from?"

Catherine's eyes filled.

"A private placement agency."

My heart hammered.

"Which one?"

She lowered her head.

"Cedar Vale."

The world seemed to tilt.

I gripped the car door.

"What was her name?"

Catherine began crying.

"I called her Julia."

I couldn't breathe.

Julia.

I remembered noticing her photograph on Catherine's mantel.

A young woman with dark hair.

A warm smile.

A familiar dimple near her left cheek.

Catherine continued.

"She's twenty-nine now."

The same age as Emily.

The same age as the baby I'd delivered.

I looked at Catherine.

"Where is she?"

Her face crumpled.

"She lives in Millbrook."

My hands began shaking.

"And you never thought she might be the other baby?"

Catherine started crying harder.