The Photograph That Led Me to My Twins—and the Letters My Mother Hid for Three Years

Clara had chosen silence.

Eleanor had chosen control.

I had chosen not to listen.

There was more than one source of the damage.

PART 5: THE ENVELOPE IN THE BOTTOM DRAWER

At the end of the meeting, Clara lifted a cream-colored envelope from beneath the correspondence.

“This isn’t from Savannah,” she said.

“It was left with me separately.