But Luke got quieter.
They said his case was one in a million, as though the number was supposed to help with such a loss.
I forced myself to keep going for Hannah. I raised her alone after that. I hung Luke’s pictures in the hallway. I told her stories about her heroic brother until she could recite them back. I never had another child. I stopped waiting for anyone to rescue us.
But I wouldn’t wish the pain of outliving your child on any mother.
Especially your firstborn.
They said his case was one in a million.
Years passed. Hannah never had any serious health problems again.
***
“Mom!” Hannah’s voice pulled me back. “Mom, please say something!”
I looked at the card in her hands and at the photo of her at the coffee shop, taken by someone who knew where she worked, when her shift was, and which window to stand across from.
“Mom, please say something!”
My mind was already running through impossible lists. Nobody at the party would have known to call her that. Nobody I’d invited had ever known Luke that way. And nobody, nobody, would have written those words as a prank.
“I promised I’d be here.”
Whose promise was that?
Before I could calm Hannah down, the doorbell rang.
Nobody I’d invited had ever known Luke that way.
Ailani jumped a little. Skylar looked toward the hall. Hannah wiped her cheeks quickly.
“Stay with her,” I told the girls. I set the towel down on the coffee table and started toward the door, my legs suddenly not quite my own.
“Ailani, Skylar, stay with her a minute,” I called over my shoulder. “Probably just late guests.”
Ailani jumped a little.
My hands wouldn’t stop shaking as I crossed the hallway. I passed Luke’s photos on the wall, the ones I dusted every Sunday, and tried to steady my breath.
I opened the door.
The man on my porch was older, grayer, and thinner than I remembered. He held a small wrapped box in one hand. His eyes were the same, though; Victor’s eyes.
I opened the door.
I grabbed the doorframe so hard my knuckles turned white!
