My stomach dropped.
Noah spoke first.
“Michael Hartley?”
Michael flinched.
Perhaps he had imagined they would call him Dad.
They didn't.
Then Nathan said it.
Quietly.
Almost kindly.
“Dad, my brother and I have been waiting thirteen years to give you this.”
Michael stared at the envelope.
“What is it?”
“You should open it.”
Rebecca stepped forward.
“This isn't appropriate.”
Evan finally spoke.
“Yes, it is.”
Everyone looked at him.
Rebecca's face changed.
“Evan?”
He stood.
Michael turned.
“Stay out of this.”
Evan's jaw tightened.
“I've been in it for eight months.”
The color drained from Rebecca’s face.
Michael looked at the envelope again.
Then at my sons.
Then at me.
“What have you done?”
I almost laughed.
Because even then…
he assumed I had done it.
“I have no idea.”
That was true.
Michael ripped the envelope open.
Inside were three things.
The first was a photograph.
I couldn't see it.
Michael could.
His hand froze.
“What is this?”
Noah answered.
“Christmas, thirteen years ago.”
Michael looked up sharply.
“It came from your archive,” Nathan said.
“Mom emailed it to you.”
Michael flipped the photograph.
Something was written on the back.
Noah told him.
“You printed it.”
Michael’s face changed.
Nathan continued.
“You wrote, ‘Noah left, Nathan right.
Five years old.’”
Silence.
