I want you to see.”
He brought me into the workshop. A wooden rocking chair stood beneath the window, and recognition hit me immediately. Michael had begun building it before Nathan’s birth, imagining himself rocking our baby to sleep. He’d never completed it.
Now its missing seat had been installed and the rough wood carefully sanded smooth. My fingers moved over one armrest.
“You really did this?”
Nathan nodded.
“Cole helped. Grandpa taught us.”
I remembered Michael joking that he’d made one of the legs too short.
“Your dad would’ve loved seeing this.”
Nathan searched my expression.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me about it?”
I had no answer. Frank spoke from the doorway instead.
“There’s something else Nathan hasn’t told you, Laura.”
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Frank had found a smaller place to live and planned to sell the family house because maintaining it alone had become too difficult. He’d told
