OUR DAUGHTER’S TWIN SISTER DIED AT NINE DAYS OLD AND WE HID IT FOR 18 YEARS — AT HER PARTY MY HUSBAND BROUGHT SOMETHING FROM THE GARAGE AND SAID, “I STARTED IT THE NIGHT SHE DIED.”

Then their branches grew together.

Hundreds of tiny leaves had been carved into the wood.

Some were darker.

Some lighter.

At the center of the two trunks were two names.

HANNAH

and

ROSIE

I covered my mouth.

“Daniel…”

He looked at me.

“I used the crib.”

My knees nearly gave out.

“What?”

“The second crib.”

The one I’d taken apart.

The one I’d stacked against the garage wall eighteen years earlier.

Daniel had never thrown it away.

He had cut it apart.

Piece by piece.

And turned it into this.

Hannah reached toward the lid.

Both hands rested on the carved trees.

She still didn’t speak.

Daniel opened the chest.

Inside were eighteen compartments.

One for every year.

And suddenly I understood where my husband had gone every September 9th.

The first compartment held a hospital bracelet.

ROSE E. MILLER

6 lbs 1 oz.

The second contained a tiny pink knitted cap.

The third, one photograph.

Two newborn girls asleep beside each other.

Hannah and Rosie.

My daughters.

Together.

I hadn’t seen that photograph in almost eighteen years.

I made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a sob.

Daniel opened another compartment.

Inside was a letter.

Then another.

And another.

Eighteen envelopes.