My Fiancé Disappeared During OUR Engagement Trip «  » Nine Years Later, a Family Moved Next Door with His Guitar » »

When I opened it, I saw Julian’s cramped handwriting and little chord diagrams squeezed into the margins.

My knees nearly gave out.

« This was his. »

The man beside me went pale.

His wife whispered his name. « Mark. »

He didn’t answer her.

I flipped through pages filled with crossed-out lyrics.

Julian used to write everywhere. Napkins. Receipts. The backs of envelopes.

But this notebook had been his favorite.

I’d watched him put it into his guitar case in Maine.