Grace.
But the other…
Had vanished.
My mother told me the story slowly.
Seventeen years earlier, Sarah had gone into labor prematurely.
There had been complications.
The first baby, Grace, survived.
The second baby was delivered minutes later.
A boy.
He was alive.
But Sarah was dying.
The hospital had been chaotic.
My mother had been terrified.
And my father had made a decision that none of us could undo.
He had arranged for the boy to be given to another family.
I stared at her.
“You sold my son?”
“No.”
“You gave away my child!”
“He believed he was saving him.”
“Who?”
“Your father.”
I stood so quickly that the chair fell backward.
“Where is he?”
My mother shook her head.
“He died three years ago.”
I felt numb.
“Then who knows where my son is?”
She looked at David.
“He does.”
I turned.
David was crying.
“You knew where my son was?”
“I knew where he had been.”
“Where?”
He pulled another envelope from his coat.
“I’ve been searching for him for seventeen years.”
My hands shook as I opened it.
Inside were photographs.
A boy.
Then a teenager.
Then a young man.
Dark hair.
Gray eyes.
The same gray eyes as Grace.
I couldn’t breathe.
“His name?”
David whispered,
“Jacob.”
I stared at the photograph.
The boy was smiling.
He looked strangely familiar.
Not like a stranger.
Like someone I had forgotten.
“Where is he now?”
David looked at the doctor.
The doctor lowered his head.
Then someone knocked on the door.
Everyone froze.
A nurse entered.
“Mrs. Carter?”
I turned.
“Yes?”
She looked confused.
“There’s someone asking for you.”
“Who?”
The nurse glanced down the hallway.
“A young man.”
My heart began pounding.
“He says his name is Jacob.”
I couldn’t move.
David stood.
The nurse continued.
“He says he saw the news about the baby.”
I walked into the hallway.
And there he was.
Twenty years old.
Tall.
Dark-haired.
Gray eyes.
My eyes.
He looked at me.
I looked at him.
Neither of us spoke.
Then his face changed.
Not with anger.
Not with confusion.
With recognition.
He whispered,
“Mom?”
That one word destroyed seventeen years of silence.
I walked toward him.
Slowly.
Afraid that if I moved too quickly, he would disappear.
When I reached him, I touched his cheek.
He didn’t move away.
I started crying.
“I’m sorry.”
He swallowed hard.
“For what?”
“For not finding you sooner.”
He looked down.
“I thought you didn’t want me.”
“No.”
My voice broke.
“Never.”
“I thought you gave me away.”
“My father did.”
“But you didn’t know?”
“No.”
He stared at me.
Then he asked the question I had feared most.
“Why didn’t you come looking?”
I closed my eyes.
Because there was no answer that could undo seventeen years.
“I didn’t know you existed.”
He looked at David.
“Did he?”
David nodded.
“I found out when you were six.”
Jacob’s expression hardened.
“And you still didn’t tell her?”
David’s eyes filled with tears.
“Your grandfather threatened to hurt you.”
Jacob laughed bitterly.
“He was already hurting me by keeping me from her.”
David looked down.
“I know.”
