He unfolded it carefully.
"I know you knew I was looking."
He looked at the words.
"You knew."
A tear rolled down his cheek.
"I wish I'd found you sooner."
He placed the letter back inside the protective sleeve.
Then he touched the headstone.
"But I found your children."
He smiled faintly.
"Caleb's a pain in the neck."
He paused.
"Mia's worse."
For a moment, he almost expected to hear Owen laugh.
The sound did not come.
But Mason found himself smiling anyway.
He looked toward the road.
"I'll take care of them."
Then he corrected himself.
"I won't take over. Hannah doesn't need that. I'll just be there."
He nodded.
"That's what you would want."
He remained at the grave for another twenty minutes.
Before leaving, he whispered one final thing.
"I love you, Owen."
The words had waited nearly forty years.
Now they had somewhere to go.
A month later, Hannah invited Mason to dinner.
It was the first time she had done so without any connection to the hospital, the storage unit, or the investigation.
She simply wanted him there.
Mason arrived carrying a large paper bag.
Caleb opened the door.
"What's that?"
"Food."
"We have food."
"Not this food."
Caleb looked inside.
His eyes widened.
"Pizza?"
"Yes."
"How much?"
"Enough."
Caleb shouted toward the kitchen.
"Mom! Uncle Mace brought pizza!"
Hannah appeared.
"You didn't have to."
"I know."
She smiled.
"Come in."
Mia came running from the hallway.
"Did you bring anything for me?"
Mason handed her a smaller bag.
She opened it.
Inside was a stuffed dinosaur wearing a tiny leather vest.
Mia stared at it.
Then she screamed.
"PRINCESS HAS A FRIEND!"
Caleb looked at the dinosaur.
"That's ridiculous."
Mia hugged it.
"You're ridiculous."
Mason laughed.
Dinner was simple.
Pizza, salad, fruit, and a cake Hannah had made that afternoon.
The children talked constantly.
Caleb explained a school project.
Mia described an argument she had with another child.
Hannah told Mason about a new position she had been offered at work.
It was an ordinary family dinner.
And that was precisely why Mason treasured it.
After the children went to bed, Hannah brought out a small wooden box.
"I found something else."
Mason looked at it.
"What is it?"
"Daniel's."
She opened the lid.
Inside was a collection of photographs.
Some were familiar.
Others were not.
There was a picture of Daniel holding Caleb as a baby.
Another showed him standing beside a half-built bookshelf.
A third showed him sitting in the backyard with Mia asleep against his shoulder.
Mason picked up one photograph.
It showed Daniel at approximately sixteen years old.
He was standing beside an old bicycle.
His hair was longer than Mason remembered.
His expression was serious.
But his eyes were unmistakable.
Mason stared at the picture.
"Where was this taken?"
Hannah looked at the back.
"His adoptive parents' house."
Mason turned it over.
There was handwriting.
Sixteen. Still waiting for Mace.
Mason closed his eyes.
Hannah sat beside him.
"He wrote that years ago."
Mason nodded.
"How many years did he wait?"
"His whole life, I think."
Mason placed the photograph carefully on the table.
Hannah reached into the box again.
She removed a small envelope.
"This was tucked beneath the photographs."
Mason looked at it.
The envelope had no address.
Only one word.
Mace.
He stared.
"Another letter?"
"I think so."
She handed it to him.
Mason opened it carefully.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
The handwriting was Daniel's.
But the date was different.
It was written only a few months before his death.
Mason began reading.
Dear Mace,
I don't know whether I will ever send this. I keep telling myself that I will call you tomorrow, but tomorrow has become a place where I hide all the things I'm afraid to do.
Mason stopped.
Hannah looked at him.
"Keep reading."
He continued.
I have a wife who loves me, two children who make every day louder than I ever expected, and a life I never imagined I would have when I was a frightened little boy holding a teddy bear in a stranger's house.
Sometimes I think I should be grateful and stop looking backward.
But then Caleb asks me whether I had a brother, and I realize that I cannot tell him about his family while leaving you out of the story.
Mason's fingers trembled.
I found your photograph.
You look older than I imagined.
I wonder whether you still whistle.
Mason let out a quiet laugh.
He read the next paragraph.
I want you to know that I don't blame you anymore.