Dennis had not been able to look at Silas.

Carol could not look at him either, but she could do this, and so she did it, and the plastic bin came down onto the coffee table like a confession.

Chapter 24 — She Wrote Back Every Time

“What is all this?” Silas asked, staring at the bin.

“They’re letters,” Carol said, and her voice was shaking.

“They’re yours.”

He reached in and lifted out one of the envelopes.

Across the front, in the big uneven letters of a child just learning to write, was his name — Silas — spelled carefully, the S’s facing the right way with obvious effort.