Same crooked smile.
Same shape around the lips.
And suddenly I remembered something she had told me when I was seventeen.
We were sitting at the kitchen table.
She held a cup of tea she never drank.
“There was a baby before you.”
I had looked at her.
“What?”
“A boy.”
She stared at the table.
“Before I met your father.”
I was young.
Uncomfortable.
Afraid that asking questions might hurt her.
So I didn’t.
She never finished the story.
And eventually, I buried the memory.
Until graduation day.
“WHO ARE YOU?”
Arthur unfolded the letter.
His hands shook.
I whispered:
“Who are you?”
The woman beside me turned.
“Sir?”
“I don’t know.”
She looked concerned.
“I don’t think I’m okay.”
Arthur cleared his throat.
“This letter was written eighteen years ago.”
Sophie lowered her head.
“On the day Sophie was born.”
The entire stadium seemed to inhale at once.
That was the day my wife died.
The day everything changed.
Arthur looked toward me.
“Before Sophie was born, Nolan’s wife attended a fundraiser here at Westbridge High School.”
My skin went cold.
“She saw me.”
Arthur swallowed.
“And she told me I looked like someone she loved.”
MY WIFE HAD FOUND HIM BEFORE I EVER KNEW
Arthur continued.
“She asked me questions.”
His voice shook.
“Questions I had avoided answering for most of my life.”
He glanced toward Sophie.
Then back at me.
“I told her I had been working in Bellmere because I had discovered I might have family here.”
My hands gripped the bleacher rail.
“I never had the courage to approach anyone.”
The whole field was silent.
“Then Sophie’s birth went wrong.”
Arthur paused.
“Nolan’s wife sent a nurse to find me.”
My chest tightened.
“She gave me this letter.”
Arthur lifted the envelope.
