“All the time.”
He closed his eyes.
“I barely remember her.”
That surprised me.
“You don’t?”
“I remember the red dress.”
He swallowed.
“I remember Dad making it.”
His eyes filled.
“And I remember being jealous because he spent so much time sewing hers.”
I smiled through my tears.
“That’s what brothers do.”
He laughed softly.
The first laugh I had heard from him.
Then he looked at me.
“Why did he never come for me?”
I opened the notebook.
“He did.”
I turned the pages toward him.
“Your father spent forty-five years looking for you.”
Caleb stared at the entries.
Every search.
Every address.
Every returned letter.
Every investigator.
Every failed attempt.
He covered his face.
“I thought he forgot me.”
“He never did.”
Caleb shook his head.
“No. You don’t understand.”
He looked at me through tears.
“When Mom left, she told me Dad didn’t want me.”
I felt something inside me break.
