I lost my wife the day our triplets were born—ten years later, we found a box on our porch labeled, “To my beautiful daughters. Love, Mom.”

June reached beneath the desk and pulled out a small bookmark, faded at the edges. Three pressed wildflowers were sealed inside.

“She left this with me,” she said. “I was supposed to give it to whichever girl needed it first.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I was supposed to give it to whichever girl needed it first.”

June smiled gently.

“I did. Ivy was six. She was continue reading …