Seven months after our divorce, I rushed into St. Jude’s Children’s and Women’s Hospital, still angry at my ex-wife, only to learn that she had just given birth to twin boys, and both of them were mine. Before the night was over, a nurse would place a brass key in my hand and tell me to use it before my own family arrived. And what was waiting for me beyond that was even more shocking.

Nurse Florence reached deep into the pocket of her apron.

She pulled out a small brass key and set it right in the center of my open palm.

I stared down at the cold piece of metal in total confusion.

“What is this key supposed to open?” I asked softly.

“Sylvia made me promise that if anything happened to her during delivery, I would give this to you before your mother got here,” Florence explained.

My fingers closed instinctively around the sharp edges of the key.