“I went through Robert’s old filing cabinet again,” she said.

“There was a Christmas card tucked into a book.

I think you should see it.”

Inside was a photograph of Robert standing outside a house I recognized as the Murphys’ former home.

Austin appeared in the background, perhaps four years old, holding a red plastic shovel.

Robert had written on the back: April.

He is healthy.

I can stop worrying.