For some reason, that tiny gesture mattered to me. She didn’t force her way in. She didn’t assume I would welcome her.
She just stood there beneath the porch light, soaked in grief and waiting.
I looked again at Jack’s letter.
About four months ago, I received a message from a woman claiming she was my biological sister.
At first I thought it was a scam.
You know how I am.
I ignored her.
Then she sent me a photograph.
There was a picture inside the envelope.
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I hadn’t noticed it before.
My fingers trembled as I pulled it out.
It was old.
The edges were yellow, slightly curled.
A young woman stood outside a small brick house holding two babies.
One was perhaps a year old.
The other looked newborn.
On the back, someone had written:
Jack and Claire. October 1989.
I stared at the photograph until my vision blurred.
