I stared at Nora.

“If he was just cruel… why did he stay two years?”

Grandpa had no answer.

I slowly stood.

My knees still hurt from weeks spent sitting beside an incubator.

“I need to see for myself. Not through you. Not through what William did to Mom. I need to know what Caleb actually did to me.”

Grandpa closed his eyes.

I took Nora back and headed toward my car, already knowing where I would begin.

—

That night, after Nora fell asleep, I pulled my mother’s cedar box from the closet.

If Grandpa had hidden an entire family from me, I needed to know what else had been hidden.

I was searching for proof that Grandpa had been wrong about Caleb.

Instead, I found proof Caleb had been hiding things from me, too.

Beneath several old scarves was a photograph.

I was four years old, sitting on a red bicycle.