“Three letters,” I said. “And you never sent one?”
“I was afraid of what you’d say.”
I opened the third.
“You heard your daughters’ heartbeats while I was still wondering whether you were alive.”
He lowered his eyes.
I touched the dates.
“Every time you wrote, you could’ve told me you were alive, and you chose not to.”
“I’m sorry.”
I pushed the letters toward him.
“Take them home, Julian. If you want me to know you, come here and talk. Don’t bring me another three years of things you nearly did.”
On Saturday, Maya visited with Emma and Chloe while Julian worked.
After feeding Chloe, she held her as we talked.
“You learned a year ago that Julian was missing?”
“Yes. I’d thought you weren’t speaking. Then I saw your old missing-person post.”
“And you never contacted me?”
“I kept asking him to call. He promised he would.”
