"When our daughter was 8 she found the same box of photos that I had seen that day I moved in. She brought them downstairs to our bedroom and said she wanted to look at the old pictures of Daddy. She asked about the pretty, dark-haired woman always standing next to him. My husband told her that was Robin. After a few more minutes she looked up and said, "There are so many pictures of her." "Dad loved her," I said. "If you loved her so much, why didn't you marry her?" she asked her father. He looked at me, and I nodded. "I did," he replied. Our daughter looked at the picture she was holding in her hand, her eyes widening, then at me. It was like one of those moments in Dickens when a foundling discovers her true origins. "It's like I have two mothers," she said in a kind of astonishment." - × × ×