We named her Marin.
Years earlier, Caleb had tried the name aloud on the porch of the fixer-upper he never got to buy.
When he reached that one, he grinned and said:
“Her, someday.”
So the name had always belonged to her.
It took a lawyer and a patient stack of documents, but Caleb’s name is on the birth certificate of the daughter he never met.
And the brass key he gave me instead of an engagement ring now hangs in a little frame beside our blue door.
I came
