PART 1 — THE GIRL IN THE PHOTOGRAPH

The day my dying husband asked me to adopt a sixteen-year-old girl I had never met, my first thought was that she must be his daughter.

There had been another woman.

Another life.

A child he had hidden somewhere for most of our fifteen-year marriage.

I remember thinking that because the alternative seemed impossible.

Christopher would never ask me to bring a complete stranger into our home without a reason.

And whatever that reason was, he was clearly terrified to tell me.

Three weeks earlier, Dr.

Bennett had closed the door to the consultation room at Riverside Regional Hospital and sat down instead of remaining beside the examination table.

Doctors sitting down is rarely good news.

Christopher knew before I did.

His hand found mine.

Dr. Bennett said:

“The biopsy confirms metastatic pancreatic cancer.”

I stared at him.

“What stage?”

He hesitated.

“Stage four.”