Because consenting to them is still my job.
While Mrs. Miller packed the cake, a family concern settled into my chest.
“Noah,” I said quietly.
He looked at me.
“What’s going on?”
Sometimes I worry I didn’t do enough.
His expression changed immediately.
“Grandpa.
I mean it. Lily left wounds that I couldn’t repair.
He put a hand on my shoulder.
That was in the past.
It’s easy to say.
“No,” he replied. It’s not. A boy doesn’t forget that his mother abandoned him. But you were there. You are my real father. The only father I ever needed.
I looked away quickly.
Old men don’t like to cry in bakeries.
We drove home with the cake over Noah’s lap.
In the middle of the main street, I looked out the rearview mirror.
There was a black sedan behind us.
Polarized windows.
Slow.
Too constant.
“Did you invite anyone else today?” I asked.
Noah frowned.
Only you and the girls. Why?
That car follows us from the station.
He turned in his seat.
“Are you sure?”
I took a closed curve to the left.
The sedan turned too.
Noah’s smile disappeared.
“They’re following us.
Maybe they’re lost.
I didn’t believe it.
Neither does he.
When we got home, the aroma of roast chicken filled the kitchen with warmth. Phoebe ran out from the stove, drying his hands with a towel.
They brought the cake!
“When have I forgotten something like that?” Noah asked.
Kelly went in waving candles.
“Twenty-one candles. We’re going to do it right.
“They just don’t burn down the house,” I warned.
Kelly rolled his eyes.
We survive your kitchen every week, Grandpa. A few candles won’t kill us.
Before I could answer, the doorbell rang.
Everyone stood still.
Noah looked at me.
I squeezed my cane.
“I’ll open,” he said.
I followed him to the hallway.
When he opened the door, the woman on the porch smiled as if he hadn’t disappeared for fifteen years.
My beautiful baby.
Lily.
She was there with a cream-colored coat, golden earrings shining, her hair perfectly arranged and an expression carefully prepared to look affectionate.
Noah’s shoulders were strained.
What are you doing here?
“Aren’t you going to invite your mother in so it doesn’t get cold?”
He came in before someone answered.
“You weren’t invited,” I said.
“It’s my son’s twenty-one birthday,” he replied as he watched the house with barely disguised contempt. I came to celebrate.
Phoebe appeared behind me holding Kelly’s hand.
We are not your daughters.
Lily turned to them with an exaggerated gasp.
Look how beautiful they are.
“Don’t talk to them,” I said.
His smile hardened.
I am his mother.
“You lost that right fifteen years ago,” I replied. The moment you left them freezing on my porch.
I left them in a safe place.
“You left them with a bag of diapers and a note written on the back of a receipt from the supermarket.
“He was young,” he said, raising his chin. I was scared. Pete and I needed time to adapt to our marriage.
“You were twenty-six.
His lips tightened.
“And you never called,” Phoebe said in a trembling voice.
Lily immediately softened her expression.
“I thought of you every day, honey.
“Then why didn’t you come when Kelly was in the hospital?” Noah asked.
Lily blinked.
What?
“Three weeks,” he said. Pneumonia. Grandpa slept in a chair by his bedside every night.
I didn’t know.
