Chapter 2
The man sat down as if his legs would not hold him.
For one frightening moment, I thought I had hurt him by saying Dad’s name.
Lily looked from him to me.
“Is he Arthur?”
The man raised his head.
“How do you know my name?”
I turned the photograph over and showed him Dad’s writing. Arthur’s hands shook when he saw it.
“He kept this,” he whispered.
“Dad told me not to lose it.”
Arthur pressed his lips together. He looked at me carefully, then at Lily.
“Is Daniel here with you?”
I could not make myself answer.
Lily did.
“Daddy died,” she said.
Arthur’s hand slipped from the chair.
Ruth pulled out another chair and sat beside him. She had known him before we arrived; I could see it in the way she stayed close.
“When?” Arthur asked.
“Nine days ago.”
He looked at the table. His face went still, and I wished I had found a kinder way to tell him.
I did not know there was a kind way.
“Was he ill?” Arthur asked.
I nodded.
“He said he was getting better. Then one morning he couldn’t get up.”
Arthur covered his eyes.
Lily climbed down from her chair and stood beside me. I put my arm around her. She leaned against my side, still holding the last piece of cinnamon roll.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
Arthur looked up.
“Why are you apologizing?”
“Because you knew him.”
“He was my son.”
The words made Lily grip my shirt.
Dad had never told us Arthur was our grandfather.
I looked at the photograph again. The newborn in Arthur’s arms was Dad. He had carried this picture all those years and never told me what it meant.
“Why didn’t you come see him?” I asked.
Arthur’s face tightened.
“I thought he didn’t want me to.”
“Did you ask?”
Ruth drew a breath. Arthur did not seem angry with me.
“Not the way I should have,” he said.
I did not know what to do with that answer. Dad was gone. Arthur was here. I needed an adult who could tell me whether Lily and I would have the same home next week.
“My neighbor is coming,” I said. “She knows we’re here.”
“Good.”
I expected him to ask us to go with him. Instead, he asked whether Mrs. Carter had a phone number where he could speak to her. He wanted to know who was helping us.
That made me trust him a little more.
Ruth went behind the counter and returned with two egg sandwiches.
“We didn’t pay for those,” I told her.
“I know.”
I looked at Arthur. He shook his head.
“Ruth made them. You can thank her.”
Lily picked hers up with both hands. I waited until she had taken a bite before I touched mine.
Arthur watched us eat. Then he looked away quickly.
“Was there enough food at home?” he asked.
“Mrs. Carter brought some.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
I stared at the sandwich.
“Dad always made sure there was food,” I said. “After he went to the hospital, things got mixed up.”
Arthur did not ask me to explain the bills or the nearly empty cupboard. He took out his phone and called the number I gave him.
Mrs. Carter answered. I heard relief in her voice when he told her where we were. She said she was walking over.
While we waited, Arthur asked Lily about her favorite book. She told him the entire story, including the ending. He listened as if he had all morning.
I kept glancing at Dad’s picture.
“You should have known us,” I said finally.
“Yes.”
“Did Dad know you were here?”
“I lived in this town the whole time.”
That made me angry. We had lived less than twenty minutes away.
“He could have brought us,” I said.
“He could have.”
I wanted Arthur to explain. I also wanted him to say it was not Dad’s fault. He did neither.
Mrs. Carter came in, her gray coat half-buttoned. She hurried to our table and checked Lily’s face first, then mine.
“You called like you promised,” she said. “Good.”
I introduced Arthur. Mrs. Carter sat down when he said he was Dad’s father.
She knew about the woman from the agency. She explained that Dad had named her as a temporary contact for us because she lived next door, but she could not take care of two children for long. She had spent the morning trying to find out what would happen next.
“I want to help,” Arthur said.
Mrs. Carter looked at me, then at Lily.
“That’s for the right people to work through,” she told him. “The children need to know who you are first.”
Arthur nodded.
I liked that she did not hand us over because he shared Dad’s name.
Before we left, Arthur gave Mrs. Carter his number. Ruth wrote hers on a bakery card and slipped it into my pocket.
“For either of you,” she said.
At the door, Arthur asked if he could see the picture once more. I held it where he could look without taking it from me.
He stared at the baby in his younger arms.
“Daniel was three days old,” he said. “He kept pulling his hand out of the blanket.”
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Dad had done that with Lily when she was a baby. He said she could not stand having her hands covered.
I looked at Arthur’s face and saw something Dad had carried into our house without ever telling us where it came from.
