“He does. Rebuilding our trust is between him and me.”
“Maybe I should leave.”
My sister looked away.
Lucas stayed.
Later, he showed me photographs of Hannah’s pregnancy. I studied his smiling face and thought about the years I’d missed.
“Show me I can trust you to be here now, Luc.”
A few weeks later, Lucas arrived with three envelopes.
My sister looked away.
One described his job. Another mentioned Hannah. The third was written after she became pregnant.
“Three letters,” I said. “And you never sent one?”
“I was afraid of what you’d say.”
I opened the third.
“You heard your daughters’ heartbeats while I was still wondering whether you were alive.”
He lowered his eyes.
“And you never sent one?”
I touched the dates.
“Every time you wrote, you could’ve told me you were alive, and you chose not to.”
“I’m sorry.”
I pushed the letters toward him.
