Her name appeared repeatedly.
Luke called.
“Dad left something for you.”
Kate laughed softly.
“He always did.”
“You know?”
“Some.”
“What do you mean?”
“Dad visited me in Oregon six months before he died.”
Luke sat down.
“He never told me.”
“He asked me not to tell Mom.”
“What did he say?”
“That he was sorry.”
“For Lucy?”
“For everything.”
Kate explained that Thomas had wanted to intervene more forcefully years earlier.
He had fought with Diane privately.
But whenever he threatened to leave, Diane reminded him that scandal would damage the business and, by extension, all three children.
“So he stayed,” Kate said.
Luke looked out the window.
“Do you forgive him?”
“Some days.”
“That sounds familiar.”
“Life is annoying that way.”
Luke smiled.
“Are you coming here?”
“Why?”
“Because I want you here.”
Kate went quiet.
“Luke.”
“I didn’t know Lucy.”
“No.”
“I want to.”
His sister inhaled shakily.
“I have pictures.”
“Bring all of them.”
Kate arrived the following month.
It was the first time she had been inside Luke’s house.
Ellie loved her immediately.
Mostly because Kate brought an enormous box of art supplies and refused to explain what any of them were supposed to be used for.
They spent two hours covering cardboard with paint.
That evening, after Ellie slept, Kate opened a worn leather album.
Lucy.
For the first time, Luke saw his niece.
Dark hair.
Round cheeks.
Huge eyes.
A baby in yellow pajamas.
A baby asleep on Thomas’s chest.
A baby laughing in a bathtub.
A baby sitting beside a tiny birthday cake several weeks before the birthday she never reached.
Luke touched the edge of one photograph.
“She looks like Ellie.”
Kate smiled sadly.
“I know.”
Claire sat beside her.
“Would you be okay if Ellie knew about her?”
Kate’s eyes filled.
“You’d tell her?”
“Of course.”
Diane had attempted to erase Lucy from the family story.
Claire decided that ended now.
The following morning, she showed Ellie one photograph.
“This was your cousin Lucy.”
Ellie studied it.
“She’s a baby.”
“Yes.”
“Where is she?”