Two names.
Manuel.
And beneath it, another name I did not recognize.
Dad did.
His smile disappeared.
“Luis.”
Mom looked at him sharply.
“Your brother?”
Derek stared.
“You have a brother?”
Dad sat very still.
I had never heard the name Luis in my life.
Not once.
Dad looked toward the darkened workshop window, as though forty years had suddenly shortened to four minutes.
“Yes,” he said.
“I did.”
He touched the forgotten name on the paper.
“And if we’re going to finish what my father started, there’s something about this family you both need to know.”
PART 4 ( The End)
The name stayed on the kitchen table between us.
Luis.
I searched my memory for any accidental mention.
A photograph.
A Christmas card.
A story told too quickly.
Nothing.
Dad sat with both hands folded before him.
Mom knew.
That much was obvious.
Derek looked from one parent to the other.
