He wore a tailored wool coat and expensive leather shoes that looked out of place in the damp Virginia drizzle.

His hair was graying at the temples, but he looked prosperous, healthy, and entirely different from the desperate young man who had walked out on us.

He spotted us and hurried over, a pained smile plastering his face.

“Mom,” he said, reaching down to hug me.

I stayed stiff in my chair, and he quickly pulled back, clearing his throat.

He sat down opposite Caroline, looking at her with an intensity that made me uncomfortable.

“Caroline,” he said, his voice trembling with what looked like tears. “My God, look at you. You look so much like your grandfather.”

“I have Arthur’s eyes,” Caroline said flatly. “That is what Grandma tells me.”

“You do,” Thomas said, leaning forward. “I cannot tell you how much I have regretted every single day I spent away from you. I was young, I was terrified, and I made the worst mistake of my life.”

He reached across the table, his hand open, waiting for her to take it.