“Very reasonable,” Jonathan said.
Denise looked between us.
“You’d really come?”
Ethan shrugged with exaggerated casualness.
“I have questions.”
Denise laughed through tears.
“I assumed you might.”
“I made a list.”
“How long?”
“Thirty-seven.”
Jonathan murmured, “I like him.”
Ethan heard.
“I have twelve for you.”
Jonathan sat up straighter.
“Of course you do.”
For a few minutes, the room felt almost possible.
Not healed.
Possible.
There is a difference.
Then I remembered the envelope.
“Why did you keep the second letter?” I asked Ethan.
He looked down.
“I thought you knew about it.”
“At six?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you always told me Denise knew you were raising me.”
I nodded.
“So when I read the letter, it matched what you had told me. I thought the adults had already discussed it.”
“And later?”
“When I was eight, I figured out you hadn’t seen it.”
“How?”
“You said something.”
