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

Caleb told me about a bridge he wanted to build for the train.

Savannah watched from the counter without pretending the encounter settled anything.

It was a simple hour, imperfect and full of pauses, yet I left feeling less desperate than when I’d arrived.

I had met them without frightening them.

That was enough.

Before I went, Caleb asked if I’d take the train home.

I said no, it belonged with him.

He seemed satisfied by the answer.