His eyes were drawn to a gold ornament. The light above the stove reflected off it, causing it to glitter. He carefully lifted it off the tree. It was a small cameo that had the tiniest picture imaginable inside. It was of a smiling woman who looked like Rachel, holding a baby girl with two ribbons in her hair—one green, the other red for the holiday. There was an etched inscription opposite the photo.

Merry Xmas. ILY. R.

“I remember when you gave her this.”

“I think I was nine. Maybe ten.” She shook her head, trying to make light of it. “A silly arts and crafts project.”

“She loved it so much. I didn’t know you had it.”

“She gave it to me that Christmas, right after she found out . . .”

Rachel broke off as her voice caught. She gently took the cameo from Grant and rehung it. Grant’s eyes strayed to the framed photographs on either side of the tree. A few featured Rachel with secondary school and college friends Grant vaguely remembered dropping by the house. The others were either of Rachel and her mother—or just Allison.

Grant couldn’t help but notice that one person was missing. Him.

“Rachel—” he began.

“No, Dad. Don’t.”

“I just don’t understand . . .”

“I’d really rather not talk about it. Please.”

But now that Grant had opened the door, he couldn’t bring himself to close it. Not yet—not without giving it one more try.

“No one loved your mother more than me, Rachel. You must know that.” Grant felt himself start to tremble deep inside. “But if there’s one person I’ve ever loved more than her—that would be you.”

Rachel started to turn away. Grant placed a hand on her shoulder.

At least she didn’t brush it away.

“I can’t imagine what I said or did to drive you away. Whatever it was, I didn’t mean it. The only thing I can say is that I’m truly sorry. But I’m completely in the dark here, Rach—and have been ever since I—”

Grant stopped and corrected himself.

“Ever since we lost your mother.”

“It’s really complicated, Dad.”

Grant’s eyes flickered. “So, I did do something . . .”

“No. It’s not what you did. It’s what . . .”

Rachel threw her hands up in clear frustration and moved away from her father, who couldn’t recall a more heart-wrenching moment in his entire life.

“What? What did I do or not do?”

“I can’t tell you,” Rachel replied. There were tears in her eyes now.

“Why not?”

“Because I promised Mom that I wouldn’t!”

Suddenly, he couldn’t have felt further away from his daughter if they’d been back on opposite sides of the Atlantic instead of three feet away from each other.

When Rachel finally broke the silence, her voice had softened.