The memory struck me with devastating clarity.
Hannah had been eighteen.
Angry.
Grieving.
She had accused Miles of taking something from Grant’s office.
I had dismissed her.
I covered my mouth.
“Oh, Hannah.”
She looked away.
“I’m not saying this to hurt you.
I’m saying Dad was afraid of something before he died.”
Sophie suddenly spoke from the doorway.
“Bluebird.”
We both turned.
“What?”
I asked.
“Bluebird.
Daddy used to call the cabin Bluebird House.”
I shook my head.
“No, sweetheart.
The cabin was called Pine Hollow.”
“Not the cabin.”
She approached us.
“The little blue house.”
Then I remembered.
On our tenth wedding anniversary, Grant had taken me to the mountains.
We had rented a tiny blue cottage beside a lake.
No children.
No phones.
Just two nights together.
One evening, as the sun disappeared behind the mountains, Grant made a playful promise.
“If we ever need to hide something from the world, we’ll put it where sunlight never reaches.”
