“Hearts have a way of healing when necessary.” “Will she remember me?” I asked over the lump in my throat. “You are a part of who she is, and of who she will become,” he said. “There is nothing in the world that shapes a child more than a mother.” “But I wasn’t her mother.” “Of course you were, Madame Vachon.” “But you said yesterday that she was never mine.” He cleared his throat. “She wasn’t. But you were hers. And you will be always.”
