I lifted out the tray.
Underneath, in the bottom of the box, there were three bobbers. Red and white. The old-fashioned kind, with the little spring clip on top.
Each one had a strip of white tape wrapped around it. With a name on it in Grandpa’s handwriting.
JESS.
BRIT.
And the third one.
SHERYL.
Mom made a sound I’d never heard her make.Track Pregnancy
She picked up the third bobber. She held it in her palm. Her hand was shaking so hard the little
spring clip rattled.
Underneath the bobbers, folded in quarters, there was a piece of paper. Yellowed. Soft as cloth.
I unfolded it. I held it so all three of us could read it.
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It was a note. In blue ink. In Grandpa’s square, slanted farmer’s handwriting. Dated at the top: June 1993.
Sheryl,
