My husband took the pages from my hand and went quiet. “Honestly, I forgot that one existed,” he said, rubbing his neck. “My dad added it when I was seven. I never understood it, and I was never allowed to ask.” He looked toward the stairs where our son was sleeping. “I think it is time I found out what the green notebook is.”

He called his father right there in the kitchen, on speaker. The old man answered on the fourth ring, and his voice cracked the moment he heard the question. “I wondered if you would ever ask,” he said. “Son, I need to tell you something I should have said thirty years ago. Is Rachel with you? Good. Please sit down, both of you.”