We placed a framed photograph of him on the mantel.
In it, Andrew was laughing with Sophie in his arms while the other five children crowded around him.
Benjamin asked whether we should remove the Callahan name from the gate.
I thought about Patrick saying that I had never belonged.
Then I looked at the six children Andrew had protected with his final strength.
“No,” I said.
“The name belongs to you too.
You get to decide what it means.”
That evening, rain began tapping softly against the windows.
The twins stopped playing and looked toward the front door.
I walked to the gate, checked the new lock, and returned without fear.
The yellow folder rested in a drawer beside Andrew’s letter.
I no longer carried it everywhere.
I did not need to.
The deed had restored our home.
The truth had restored our dignity.
And the silence that once protected Patrick Callahan no longer lived in our house.
