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

“Are you coming to fix the train?”

“If Caleb wants me to try.”

Caleb held it up solemnly.

Lucas found a screwdriver.

I sat on the floor and discovered that repairing a tiny plastic wheel was more difficult than negotiating a nine-figure contract.

Caleb corrected the way I held the axle.

I thanked him, because he was right.

When the train rolled again, he grinned.