It showed that he understood at least one concrete responsibility.

I gave him a list of June’s doctors and her ordinary childhood history: allergies, vaccinations, a broken finger from a playground accident, an astonishing ability to collect colds from anyone who stood within ten feet of her.

He smiled at that, then looked down at the photograph I’d brought.

June was standing in our garden holding a lopsided sunflower.

“Can I keep this?”

“Yes.”