CHAPTER EIGHT

Cara

Flower-rimmed bowls of steaming home-made tomato soup met Cara when she joined her mother for lunch.  They came with her favourite accompaniment, tuna salad sandwiches with pickles. 

“Mom, why can’t you just tell me which one of these girls you are?” Cara asked after a few mouthfuls of sandwich.  “I like them all.  I’m sure I won’t judge the others when I find out who you are.”

“You might be surprised.  Sorry Cara, I wrote this story the way it is for a reason.  At the pace you’re reading, you’ll know soon enough which one of the girls is me.”

Cara ate for another few minutes and then said, “So you were my age when you got pregnant?”

“That’s...

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