For the first time, I understood that Calvin’s secret was only one part of what had happened.
Dorothy had been searching too.
And somewhere in the years we had spent grieving, there was still a missing piece of our family story waiting to be found.
PART 3
I did not sleep that night.
The photograph remained on my kitchen table beneath the yellow light above the stove.
Dorothy smiled from twenty-eight years earlier, baby Melissa tucked against her chest.
On the back were twelve words that had changed everything.
CALLED AGAIN TODAY. STILL NO CONFIRMATION. IF THERE IS EVEN A CHANCE, I HAVE TO KEEP LOOKING.
For seven years I had thought Dorothy died believing our daughter was gone.
Now I wasn’t sure.
At six the next morning, I opened a closet I had barely touched since Dorothy’s death.
Three storage boxes sat on the top shelf.
I knew what they contained.
