I looked at the photograph.
Then at Lucas.
There was something about the shape of his eyes.
Not familiar exactly.
But there was a softness around them that made an old memory move somewhere just beyond my reach.
“My mother held you?”
“Apparently.”
“But why?”
“That’s the part Dad and I couldn’t answer.”
Douglas swallowed.
“Margaret and I adopted Lucas when he was nine days old.”
My head snapped toward him.
“You adopted him?”
Lucas gave a sad smile.
“Surprise.”
“I thought—”
“Most people did,” Douglas said. “We never hid it from him. We just didn’t announce it to everyone.”
Lucas nodded.
“My parents told me when I was little. They always said my birth mother wanted me to have a stable family and that the adoption was private.”
“Who arranged it?”
Douglas looked toward the blue suitcase.
“An attorney.”
“Which attorney?”
“A man named Walter Pierce.”
