A moth is trapped between the bulb and the shade. I hear the muted thuds as it throws its body back and forth in frantic attempts to escape. I know the feeling. ‘And me?’ I ask, my voice shaking, as I stand frozen by the window, my arms folded. ‘Why didn’t someone call me, tell me? You had no right! No right to search for him, to find him.’ ‘He found us,’ Jenny says. I can see the excitement growing in her face as she rushes to explain. ‘Uncle Boyer sent him a message through the agency that was searching for his birth records. He called back right away. Uncle Boyer explained the circumstance of his birth. Told him how sick his grandmother—’ ‘Didn’t anyone, anyone, stop to think to ask me if this is what I wanted?’ I demand. The heat of fear turns into shivers of anger. I whirl around and slam the window shut. ‘You had no right to decide for me.’ ‘I know. We know. But it all happened so fast. There really wasn’t time. He called yesterday to say he was flying up from Vancouver tomorrow.
