“In here,” she shouted, shifting her legs and glancing at the bedside clock to see that an hour had passed. Stiffly she stood, her left foot asleep and her right leg cramped. Shane was meant to go pick up their dad, who’d been out fishing with Bob all morning. Was it that time already?

Shane entered the room as she stood, her hand on the bedside table. “What are you doing? Cleaning out closets?”

“I was looking for my baby book.”

“Why?” He walked into the room and bent down to lift the pink satin book from the floor.

“The note cards. You know, the ones on your wall. Hallie’s right—something is off. I thought maybe I could find something in there.”

“Did you?”

“There’s nothing about me at all for the first two months. That is a book full of every milestone; every gurgle and coo and word and movement I made until I was three years old. And yet from birth to two months there is absolutely nothing.”

Shane sat on the bed and opened the book, glanced at the first couple pages. “Where’s mine?”

Colleen pointed to the closet. “Top shelf.”

Shane reached up—no chair for him—and brought out a blue suede baby book, opened it and glanced up at Colleen. “You’re right. It’s odd.” He flipped the book toward her, where there were photos labeled by age: One week. Two weeks. One month. Two months. And on and on.

“See? Where the hell was I from the first picture to the one of me at eight weeks old?”

“Had you never noticed that before?”

“No. Why would I?”

Shane sat next to her on the bed. “Well, I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation. Like maybe Mother was exhausted from opening a pub. Learning to care for a firstborn. All kinds of reasons.”

“It’s the ‘all kinds of reasons’ that gets me.” She smiled at her brother. “I’d like to know which kind.”

“Yeah, I get that. Me, too.”

“And by the way, they weren’t opening the pub yet. According to Mr. Bivins, Dad was working at the pub but didn’t own it. So someone is lying.”

“Or confused.”

“Or that.” Colleen stood and began to gather the boxes and bins to place back in the closet. Shane joined her.

“It’s only two months,” he said as he shoved a box into the back corner.

“Only two months.” Colleen set her baby book back on the top shelf and shut the closet door. “But what if they were your two months?”

Shane nodded. “I would want to know. What will you do?” he asked as they walked back to the kitchen, where Colleen had made a makeshift office, her computer, notebooks and papers set out for a day of making phone calls and conducting interviews.