Because the note was signed “Dad.”
And my father had been dead for twenty-five years.
At least, that’s what my mother told me when I was seven.
PART 2
I read the note four times before I could breathe normally.
“Sarah,
You won’t remember my face, and I understand that. You were six the last time you saw it. But I remember yours every single day.
I’m not going to dump everything on this piece of paper. You deserve better than that, and so does the little girl who orders strawberry shortcake exactly the way you used to, standing exactly the way you used to, so much like you that the first time I saw her I had to pull over around the corner and sit for a while.
I know you were told I died.
