For several months life returned to a fragile rhythm while winter settled across Seattle with steady rain and short gray afternoons. Caleb began volunteering regularly at the shelter, repairing broken appliances and helping children fix toys that had traveled through difficult homes.
One evening we sat together on the back porch while mist drifted through the porch light, and Caleb admitted something that had clearly been haunting him for years. “Brooke, sometimes I wonder if I unknowingly helped them because I carried tea cups to Grandma all the time.”
I placed my hand over his and replied gently, “You were young and you trusted the adults around you, which means the responsibility belongs to the people who abused that trust.”
Caleb eventually began seeing a therapist and slowly rebuilt his sense of stability, yet another surprise arrived the following spring when Gregory Dalton called with unusual news. Monica had become eligible for a parole review and requested a meeting with me because she claimed to possess information about plans my father had hidden from everyone.