“Who was that woman?”
“Someone who knew
your mom.”
His face immediately brightened.
“Really? What did she say?”
“Not much.”
“Did she know my dad?”
I closed the drawer too quickly.
“I don’t know.”
Lucas watched me.
“You always say that.”
“Because there are things I genuinely don’t know, sweetheart.”
He went quiet.
That was something Teagan used to do too.
I hated seeing it in him.
After Lucas went to bed, I stood alone in the kitchen holding the envelope.
Then I finally opened it.
A photograph slipped onto the counter.
Teagan was standing beside a teenage boy.
I recognized him.
Quiet.
Polite.
He had been inside our house twice while Teagan was pregnant.
I barely remembered speaking to him.
A worn baseball glove was tucked beneath his arm.
Then I unfolded the letter.
Mom,
I know you think I won’t tell you because I don’t trust you.
