He hands her one of the letters. “Can you?” His eyes are dark and soft and open. “Please?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to be the one to read it? It seems like a private thing.”

“You reading it is like me reading it.”

She takes the letter and pauses for a breath. Then she unseals the envelope, little by little, cringing with every tiny tear. Her heart hurts to see Sequoia’s childhood penmanship and the doodles tucked into the corners and along the margin; daisies and swirls and what Kavita presumes is a hawk beside Hawthorn’s name. A bittersweet grin lifts the corners of her mouth.

“‘Dear Hawk,’” she reads aloud, feeling odd for using the nickname she feels is reserved for Sequoia. “‘Happy thirtieth birthday, little brother.’” Three exclamation marks punctuate the end of the sentence, but Kavita can’t find any cheer to liven her tone. “‘By now I bet we both have families and our kids are best friends, just like you and me. I’m a world famous artist and spend half the year in Paris living the life. I bet by now you’ve seen at least half the world. And you’re a famous karate master. And an Olympian. We rock.’”

“Oh my God,” he interrupts. “I was obsessed with The Karate Kid back then. I can’t believe I forgot about that. Sorry, go on.”

After a moment, she finds her place again. “‘If we haven’t been to California yet to see the redwoods, please take me there for my birthday present this year. If you do, I promise to take you to Disneyland. Love, your big sister, Sequoia.’” Beside her signature, a drawing of a tree. Lowering the letter, Kavita remains silent, as she gently chews the side of her tongue and waits for Hawthorn to speak.

“I forgot about the redwoods. They’re her namesake.”

“Did she ever get to see them?”

“We always meant to go. We were so close, too, when we lived out in bc for all those years. But we never found the right time.”

She hands him the letter and envelope. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” He slips the letter back into its envelope. “It’s no one’s fault. It just makes me sad.”

She tucks her hands into the pocket of her jean jacket and touches Sunil’s picture. “Do you think you’ll ever go someday?”

“Maybe.” He taps the edge of the envelope with one finger. “If you come with me.”

She smiles at him, not taking him seriously.

“We could hike deep into the woods and scatter her ashes at the roots of a two-thousand-year-old redwood. I like the idea of her ashes filtering into the soil with the rain. Getting sucked up by the roots. Then travelling all the way to the canopy. I like the idea of her being able to see all the way to the ocean.”