He tasted home.

At the very end, when almost everything had been taken from him, I got to hand him that.

It is the proudest thing I have ever done.

Chapter 12 — My Real Daughter

He reached up with a shaking hand and slid a ring off his left hand — an old sterling-silver Marine Corps signet he had worn for forty years — and he pressed it into my palm and folded my fingers closed over it.

“They share your blood, Dahlia,” he said.