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.

“He thought I didn’t want him.”

“And he thought you didn’t want him.”

Caleb laughed bitterly.

“Forty-five years.”

I nodded.

“Forty-five years.”

Two people who loved each other.

Two people waiting for the other to make the first move.

And neither one did.

Until it was too late.

Caleb opened the notebook.

The last page contained only one sentence.

If Caleb ever reads this, tell him I was never angry with him.

Caleb stopped breathing for a moment.

Then he whispered:

“I was never angry with him either.”

---

Chapter 11 — The Deed

Before I left, I gave Caleb the notebook.

But I kept the deed.

Arthur had told me there was one more thing Julian wanted me to understand.