My wedding announcement.

Little pieces of information relatives had quietly passed along.

She had kept her promise never to contact me.

But she had never stopped thinking about me.

I decided not to sell the house.

Instead, I started restoring it.

Slowly.

Weekend by weekend.

I repaired the garden.

Fixed loose boards.

Repainted rooms.

Dad came with me once after he was strong enough to travel.

He stood in Eleanor’s kitchen for a long time.

“I should have brought you here thirty years ago,” he finally said.

“Maybe.”

“I thought I was protecting everyone.”

“I know.”

“I’m not sure I protected anyone very well.”

I looked toward the garden.

“You fixed it before you ran out of time.”

He nodded.

That was enough.

Today, Dad is doing better.

Slower.

More careful.

But still here.

He calls me every week now.

Not because he needs anything.

Just because he wants to talk.