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“She’s great. Busy.” Oliver flashed a tight grin.

“Oh, good. I always worry.” A smile warmed his face. “Please tell her we’ve missed her ’round here.”

As Will backtracked to straighten a box he’d sideswiped during his arrival, Oliver scoped out the office. Hockey mementos and framed photos from fishing trips and golf tournaments covered the blue-painted walls, and a small, crooked cactus that had seen better days sat forlorn on a shelf crowded with trophies. Seemed his biological father didn’t have a green thumb, either.

Will settled in his chair. “So what can I do for you today?”

Dread rattled Oliver’s bones. “I-I’m actually here about Linnéa Jönsson.”

Eyes widening, Will picked up a stray paperclip from his desk pad calendar. “Oh? You know her?” He twisted the clip, prying it open. “I haven’t seen Linnéa in many years.”

Oliver nodded. “There’s no easy way to say this…she suffered a massive stroke and passed away fourteen months ago.”

Will’s gaze darted away. “Oh my god. Linnéa.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he scrubbed a hand over his mouth. He took several seconds, then said, “How’s her son doing?”

“Despite everything, trying my best to make her proud.”

The colour drained from Will’s face as he stilled, his gaze fixed on the bent paperclip trapped between his thumb and index finger. His eyes crawled back, meeting Oliver’s. “You?” He blinked several times. “You’re my…son? But⁠—”

“I know it sounds mad, but I have proof.” Oliver pulled out the paternity declaration from his backpack and handed it across the desk.

Dropping the paperclip, Will accepted the document, his hands shaky as he pushed up his glasses and scrutinized the information and signature. He let out a staggered breath then said, “I couldn’t be there for your birth but flew over a week later. Sold a tractor and two horses on the family farm to help pay for airfare.” He rubbed his nose and glanced up. “I’ve never forgotten how small you were, how fragile and precious you felt in my arms.” As he stared at the paper again, a quivery grin parted Will’s lips. “And Linnéa absolutely glowed. So proud, so happy.”

Oliver nodded. “I couldn’t have asked for a better mother.”

“I don’t doubt it. She was selfless…unlike me.” Will dipped his chin.

Shifting uncomfortably in the chair, Oliver clutched the backpack on his lap. “Honestly, I don’t know much about you or your relationship with Ma. She kept a lot to herself.”

“That was Linnéa through and through. Discreet, protective. And so damn beautiful.” Will handed the document back to Oliver. “I hope she didn’t suffer.” He sniffed. “Was she ill long?”

“She held on for two days then passed. I was with her.”

“I’m glad she wasn’t alone. She was always there for everyone. Your mother was a remarkable woman.”

“She was,” said Oliver.

Will clasped his hands. “If things were different, I—” Unfolding them again, he tugged the collar of his button-down. “It was complicated. Linnéa wanted to stay close to her parents. My career was in Detroit.” He glanced across his desk. “I had a contract. I couldn’t just quit, Oliver.” His voice cracked. “You were William the last time we were together.” A flicker of a grin softened his face. “You’d just turned six.”

“I don’t remember.” Oliver pined for the past. I wish I did.

The smile drained from Will’s eyes. Looking downward, he cleared his throat, taking a moment before continuing. “I would’ve visited more often but couldn’t afford it.” He fussed with the buttons on his shirt’s left cuff. “And I was young and inexperienced. I didn’t know how to make a relationship work, let alone one on the other side of the world. It was tough for both of us, only seeing each other every few years. Letters and phone calls just didn’t…” Trailing off, he shook his head. “It was inevitable, I guess. Wanting something more, something here.” He glanced up, his gaze locking with Oliver’s. “But I hated being separated from you. I was torn, racked with guilt. I thought I’d never see you again.” Will pressed his lips like he was smothering a smile. “And yet decades later, here you are. How’d you find me?”

Oliver shared the ‘Where Are They Now?’ newspaper article as well as Linnéa’s letter, which Will pored over for quite some time. Waiting patiently, Oliver looked away, losing himself in a photo of pine and birch trees reaching for the sky on the shore of a beautiful misty lake.

A loud sniff from across the desk pulled him back.

“Thank you.” As he handed back the papers, tears breached Will’s lashes. He yanked a tissue from a box on his desk and wiped his eyes. “Whoa, I didn’t expect…” He sniffed and balled up the tissue. “Is it okay if I show you something?”

“Sure.” Oliver stowed the documents in his backpack for safekeeping as Will collected a key from his drawer.

He crouched and opened a small metal cabinet, removing two bundles of envelopes bound together by elastic bands. “These are the letters, the ones your mother mentioned. From ’67 onward, they all came back to me marked ‘return to sender’.”

So many? Leaning forward, Oliver’s eyes widened as Will stood and deposited the unopened mail in his hands.

“You can read them if you like.”

Oliver tentatively peeled away one of the thick elastics then thumbed through the envelopes.