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

Would you be able to sit with him for an hour?

Only if you’re free.”

The old Gabriel would have summoned staff, found a nurse, and considered the problem solved.

I closed my folder.

“I’ll be there.”

I drove myself to Saint Paul.

When I arrived, Caleb was on the sofa under a blanket with a picture book in his lap.

He looked annoyed by the indignity of being ill.