My stepdad raised me after I lost my mother — just hours before he d*ed, he gripped my hand and whispered, “There’s something I’ve hidden from you your entire life.”

Then I thought about Catherine Reyes.

“I’ve been going through some of his things,” I said.

“He left a lot of papers.”

“That sounds like Frank.” Gerald smiled.

“He kept everything.

Birthday cards from 1987, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“I found some things I didn’t expect.”

A small shift.

Almost nothing.

The smile stayed but something behind his eyes adjusted.

“Oh?”

“Old photographs, mostly.

Some documents.” I kept my voice light.

“Did you know Frank had been married before he met my mother?”

Gerald set his mug down.

“Where did you hear that?”

“I found a birth certificate.

In his papers.” I watched his hands.

They were very still on the table.

“Her name was Catherine.

Catherine Reyes.”

“Frank mentioned her once or twice over the years.” His voice was measured.

“It was a painful chapter for him.

She passed away very young.

He didn’t like to talk about it.”