The truth left me ashamed of the accusations I had made. I had spent the drive imagining that Margaret and Thomas had somehow harmed my mother, yet they had been caring for her while I searched desperately in another town. They had visited a woman whose name they didn’t know, held her hand, and worried about her when no one else seemed to understand how alone she was. “We kept hoping her family was out there somewhere,” Margaret said softly. “We couldn’t stand the thought of her being alone if they were looking for her.” Tears filled my eyes. “I was looking,” I whispered. “I never stopped. Not for one single day.”

Then my mother moved. Her fingers shifted against the blanket, and her eyelids slowly opened. At first, she stared at the ceiling, confused and distant. Then her eyes found my face and stayed there. I held my breath as she struggled to understand what she was seeing. Finally, her lips moved. “Laura?” she whispered. Hearing my name from her mouth broke whatever strength I had left. I bent over her, carefully avoiding the IV, and wrapped my arms around her. “Yes, Mom. It’s me. I’m here.” Her hand rose slowly to my cheek, and her thumb brushed my skin just as it had when I was a little girl.