There was Caleb at 18, grinning into the camera.
There was Sadie beside him.
Then there was Beau.
The same grin.
The same crooked eyebrow.
I covered my mouth.
“Oh, Caleb.”
Sadie began crying again.
“I’m sorry.”
I handed the phone back.
“How does Jasper fit into this?”
For the first time, she almost smiled.
“Jasper was Caleb’s.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“Not officially. Caleb found him behind the grocery store the summer before his senior year.”
A memory suddenly surfaced.
Caleb coming home late several evenings that summer.
Dog food disappearing from our garage.
I had assumed he was feeding a neighbor’s pet.
Sadie continued.
“He kept Jasper behind my parents’ shed for weeks. Then my dad finally let me keep him.”
I stared toward the kitchen.
“That’s why he goes to the cemetery.”
“He remembers Caleb.”
I looked down at my hands.
Suddenly, every Sunday made sense.
