I traced the words with my eyes, careful not to touch the paper.
“Why would my father keep this?” Alexander asked.
“Because my mother asked him to,” I said.
“Then why did he leave it where it could be found?”
Neither of us answered.
Daniel turned the page over.
There was another note on the back, written in a hand that was neither my mother’s nor Alexander’s father’s.
It was dated the year Alexander and I married.
The line beneath it was brief.
If Claire ever comes to the family, make sure she understands that this is hers to accept or refuse.
I read it twice.
Alexander looked at the handwriting, and something in his expression shifted from confusion to alarm.
“I recognize this,” he said.
“Whose is it?”
He turned the page toward the light.
“My father’s.”
Then he looked at me, pale with a realization he had not yet put into words.
