But underneath the fear, growing, was the relief, because a burden you have carried alone in secret for fifteen years is an unspeakably heavy thing, and I had not known, until it was about to be lifted, how desperately I had wanted someone else to finally help me hold it.

Laura reached out, and pulled the ribbon loose, and lifted the lid.

Chapter 22 — Fifteen Envelopes

For a long moment, Laura simply stared down into the box in silence, and the smile drained slowly off her face.

Inside, arranged in careful order, were fifteen envelopes, each one clearly labeled with a year.

And beneath them lay the rest of it: dozens of original photographs, birthday party invitations, school play programs, recital notices, returned envelopes with return to sender stamped across my own handwriting, printed copies of emails I had sent, and, at the very bottom, my old leather notebook with its cracked spine.

“What is this?” Laura said.