Page 228

Atticus looked down. “I’m sure that’s what he wants us to think. I used to catch him in here all the time, especially right before he went to college.”

“What was he doing in here?”

He slowly walked to the desk and pulled out a stack of papers.

“He would read these,” Atticus said.

I looked at them. They were handwritten notes, all signed from the same woman.

Were these . . .? I looked up, only to find Atticus had left me alone.

With a sigh, I focused on the letters.

I’d met Gabriel’s mom in passing the same way every kid meets their friends’ parents. She was nice and took care of me when I was over, but my memories were fuzzy at best.

But reading these, I could almost hear a soft voice talking to me. I could faintly see her smile and her outline.

She told me where she was from and how worried she was for Gabriel’s future. She didn’t think he was getting the best education, and that she wanted him to see where she was from. How she didn’t want him to feel disconnected from her roots.

I got to a letter where she was planning a trip. She was so excited for it, but when I went to the next one, there was nothing there.

“What?” I asked. “That’s it?” With a long sigh, I put them back in the drawer before going outside. “Atticus! What was that?”

He jumped. “I showed you the letters. I thought⁠—”

“When did she take him to San Franscisco?” I asked.

“She didn’t.” He said it quietly. “She died the night before.”

My heart thudded in my chest. “Oh, fuck. So, he read those to feel connected to her.”

“Yes.”

“And he moved to where she was from.”

“That’s what I think.”

“Do you think that’s still why he wants to leave?”

Atticus’s lips pursed as he considered it. “He hasn’t been here to read them, not that I’ve seen at least. It doesn’t seem like it was the first time.”

“He seems to be determined about going back,” I said with a shake of my head. “But I know he cares about things here.”

“Maybe he feels guilty for leaving. He’s doing nice things to feel better.”

It was possible. With a sigh, I looked out to the fields, thinking through everything I’d seen.

“That doesn’t feel like it’s it.” I shook my head. “Do you think that’s what it is?”

Atticus considered. “No. I don’t.”

“Then what do you think it is?” I sifted through all I knew, wondering if there was something in San Francisco that would make him go back. He’d said it was because of the girls’ schooling, but they were getting a great education here, so it didn’t make sense to me. What was so important about this private school? “Wait, do you think it’s Alice? Did she have anything to do with the school?”

Atticus was quiet for a moment. “I believe she’s the one who found it.”

I gasped. “That’s it! He’s going back because she wanted the girls to go to school there. Not because he wants to.”

“I’ll admit, I had a feeling he was doing that, but⁠—”