None of this was easy to solve with a medal or a legal notice.

The boys were becoming young men, and each new opportunity revealed another place where the past had left a mark.

I reminded myself that healing rarely arrived as a single event.

Sometimes it looked like a corrected school form and an ordinary Tuesday when nobody cried.

<strong>PART 12</strong>

Brian’s mother, Eleanor, called on a cold Monday afternoon.

I had not spoken to her since the twins were nine.

For several years she sent birthday cards with small checks.