Jackson reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He thumbed through it and carefully pulled out a folded piece of paper. Slowly, he opened it up and handed it over for me to see. It was the drawing he’d just described. He’d kept it in his pocket all this time. “Jackson,” I whispered. “I like to keep that with me, but I can’t look at it every day, or it’ll get ruined. So instead, I have those.” He pointed over my head to the mantel. “Now tell me, what does this picture and all of those have in common?” I turned and followed his pointed finger. Just like the sketch in my hand, all
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