At the time, it had just been one more miracle. There were always miracles about babies—babies born to mothers who thought they would never have babies, like his own mother; babies who survived horrible catastrophes unharmed; babies who lived when doctors predicted they would die. If you only read about miracles, you would think that babies always defied the odds.

Wunder knew now that they didn’t. But Jayden and Jayla had.

So why was their mother getting a letter?

Wunder left his room and went to the kitchen. The visitors had stopped after a few days, the casseroles after two weeks, but the cards kept coming in, even now. There was a huge pile of them on the kitchen table. He sifted through until he found what he was looking for.

It was the card that had come with the casserole on the day of the funeral. It read:

No one can ever know exactly what another person is going through, but I do know about loss. When you are ready, please reach out to me. I would love to connect.

It was signed Mariah Lazar. Her phone number and address were there.

Wunder decided to go right away.

Chapter 28

The Lazar house was across town. Wunder rode his bike. He pedaled fast and with every rotation of the wheels, a new question came to him. It seemed to him that this was the letter he had been waiting for, the one that would hold answers. Here was a mother whose children had been saved. Here was a mother who had written to his own mother. Here, he hoped, was the end of his search.

When Jayla opened the door, he felt like a primed pump. He felt like an overwhelmed dam.

“Hi, Wunder!” Jayla cried. “Are you here to interview me and Jayden again?”

“No, Jayla,” Wunder said. “Not this time. I need to talk to your mom.”

Mariah Lazar was younger than Wunder had expected her to be, tall with long dark braids. She smiled when she saw him, the small, sad smile that Wunder was used to seeing now. She leaned on the door frame.

“Wunder Ellis,” she said. “It’s so good to finally meet you.”

“You brought us a casserole,” Wunder said.

She nodded. “I did. Sorry about that; I’m a dreadful cook. I also lead a grief group at the community center, although there aren’t many people in it.”

Wunder thought of the letters he had delivered, the dozens of people around town who had lost someone. “Why aren’t there?” he asked, surprised.

“It’s easy to connect over the things that make us happy. It’s much harder to reach out when we’re sad. Even though that’s what we need.” She held her hands open. It looked to Wunder as if she was inviting him to hug her and also showing that she wasn’t hiding anything up her sleeves. “I’m hoping your parents will come and join us. When they’re ready, of course.”

“My dad has been working all the time,” Wunder found himself saying. “And I don’t know if my mother will ever be ready.”