“Dad, I love you.”
“Dad, you’re my hero.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
Dad.
My husband had a daughter I had never heard about.
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On a small table was a cardboard box.
“Then find her.”
He shook his head.
“What if she doesn’t want to hear from me?”
“That should be her decision.”
For the first time, Mark looked at me differently.
“You really think I should contact her?”
“I think she deserves the chance to decide for herself.”
We spent several weeks gathering old documents and searching through the information Mark still had.
Eventually, we found Emily.
She was twenty-two and living less than an hour away.
Mark stared at her photograph for several minutes.
“She looks happy,” he whispered.
“Then don’t take that away from her,” I said. “Just tell her the truth.”
Mark wrote her a letter.
He didn’t blame Claire.
He didn’t demand forgiveness.
He simply explained who he was, what had happened, and why he had never stopped thinking about her.
He told her he had kept her photographs and letters all those years.
Most importantly, he told her that she didn’t owe him anything.
Ten days later, Emily responded.
Her message was short.
“I received your letter. I don’t know what to believe yet. But I remember the red boots. Do you still have them?”
Mark covered his face with his hands.
“Yes,” I told him. “Tell her yes.”
Their first meeting happened at a quiet park.
I stayed nearby but gave them privacy.
