“I’m helping.”
***
I knew my mother died after giving birth to me. I knew she’d liked yellow dresses, old music, and too much cinnamon in her coffee.
I knew almost nothing about my father.
Grandpa always said he’d disappeared.
Now I knew that wasn’t the whole story.
I knew my mother died after giving birth to me.
***
An hour later, Tessa drove me home. I rolled straight to my bedroom and pointed to the wooden box on the top shelf.
“Hand me that.”
Inside were photographs, cards, and a bundle of envelopes tied with string. Every envelope had Cole’s name on it. Some had been returned. Others had never been mailed.
The front door opened.
“Hand me that.”
***
Grandpa appeared in my doorway and stopped.
His eyes went straight to the letters spread across my bed.
