With my left hand, clumsy and shaking, I took the envelope. The paper felt heavy enough to matter. My name sat there in dark blue ink, elegant and controlled.
Claire Elise Hayes.
Not Claire Bennett.
Not my married name, because I had never married.
Hayes.
My mother’s maiden name.
“Why would she write Hayes?” I whispered.
Richard’s eyes moved to the envelope, then to Evelyn.
Something passed between them.
A warning.
My pulse quickened. “Uncle Richard?”
He did not answer immediately.
I slid my finger under the flap. The envelope opened cleanly, as if it had been sealed recently. Inside was a single sheet of paper and a smaller photograph.
The photograph fell onto my blanket.
It showed my mother much younger, sitting on the porch of my grandparents’ farmhouse. She was holding a baby wrapped in a yellow blanket. Beside her stood Richard, younger too, in uniform, one hand resting protectively on the porch railing.
