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on my stomach. Violet kicked beneath my ribs, sharp and stubborn. We had chosen the name secretly, Quincy and I. Garrett wanted Grace. Nadine wanted Mercy. I wanted my daughter to have a name that belonged to flowers, not sermons.
“Garrett said Claire died from complications,” I said.
“She did.”
“And the baby?”
Nadine folded another blanket.
“The child continue reading …
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