I was afraid to ask.
“What more could there possibly be?”
Arthur nodded toward the leather-bound notebook.
“Julian wanted you to read that before you looked at the deed.”
My fingers felt numb as I picked it up.
The leather was cracked with age. The corners were worn smooth, as though Julian had carried it everywhere for years.
When I opened it, I found page after page of handwriting.
Some entries were only a few sentences.
Others filled several pages.
The first page was dated forty-four years earlier.
I began to read.
Lily is gone.
That was all.
The next page said:
I keep expecting to hear her running down the hallway.
Then:
Caleb won’t talk to me.
And beneath that, written much more heavily:
I should have saved them both.
I stopped reading.
“Arthur…”
He lowered his eyes.
“Keep going.”
So I did.
Over the next hour, I learned things Julian had never told me.
