His hands were small and earnest.

He had no savings account, no mortgage, no idea how deeply adults could hurt one another, yet he understood something Lucas had somehow forgotten: when something needs support, you do not throw it away.

You figure out what will help it stand.

PART 6: The Envelope in the Glove Compartment

Three days after Hope’s birth, Lucas came to my house.

He did not knock in the familiar quick rhythm we had invented as children.