our daughter, his voice rough.
She chewed thoughtfully and said, “Hi.”
“What is your name?” he asked.
“Lily,” she replied.
His breath caught, and I knew why. Years earlier by the river, Desmond had told me his grandmother’s name had been Lillian. I had not named our daughter Lily for him, but for the softness I wanted her life to contain. Still, the name continue reading …
