Three months later, I watched Caleb struggle with Nora’s car seat in my driveway.
“You can ask,” I said.
“Give me one more.”
He got it right, then looked at me. “Six?”
“Six. And if anything changes, you call. You don’t decide for both of us.”
“I know.”
This time, I believed him. I handed him the diaper bag.
There were no secrets left.
He had moved out of his father’s house, and although the trust was finally his, decisions about Nora were ours.
Later, I read Mom’s letters to Grandpa.
“I thought keeping that family away was protecting you,” he said, wiping his eyes. “I never gave Caleb a chance to prove he wasn’t his father.”
That night, Caleb brought Nora home exactly at six.
As I rocked her to sleep, I realized there were no secrets left for someone else to decide I wasn’t ready to hear.
I was the first woman in my family to hear the whole story – and decide for myself who got to stay.
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