Saoirse has always been an expressive child, even without a voice. It's easy -- almost easier than Greta would like it to be -- to read her expression as it slips from eager anticipation to something stunned and increasingly unhappy. It's hard to imagine why a letter from Jack would prompt such a reaction.

Greta takes a few slow, uncertain steps toward her, the instinct to comfort tempered by the bewilderment of not knowing why such a thing should be necessary. She waits until the girl's eyes have reached the bottom of the page before quietly venturing, "Saoirse? What's wrong?"