The baby everyone had told me was dead.
I gently pulled Toby away from me.
“Look at Mommy.”
He wiped his cheeks with his sleeve.
“Was the baby alive?”
He didn’t answer.
“Toby, I need you to tell me exactly what you saw.”
His eyes moved toward the doorway.
“Dad said I wasn’t supposed to tell.”
My stomach dropped.
“Did Daddy threaten you?”
Toby shook his head quickly.
“No.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me before?”
“Because Daddy said you were sick.”
My heart began beating faster.
“What did he say?”
Toby swallowed.
“He said if I told you, you might get sick again.”
I stared at him.
For a moment, I couldn’t even breathe.
Lucas had always been protective of me.
But this wasn’t protection.
This was secrecy.
I stood up too quickly and nearly fell.
Toby grabbed my hand.
“Mommy?”
“I’m okay.”
I wasn’t.
I was anything but okay.
I walked to the bedroom door and looked down the hallway.
Lucas wasn’t there.
Neither was Brenda.
I suddenly realized how strange that was.
Brenda had practically lived in our house since the delivery.
She had been the one bringing me soup.
The one reminding me to take my medication.
The one sitting beside me when Lucas went to work.
The one who constantly told me that God had a plan.
And now, for the first time since I came home, she was nowhere around.
I turned back to Toby.
“Tell me about the woman.”
He hesitated.
“She had dark hair.”
“Anything else?”
“She wore a green coat.”
My heart skipped.
A green coat.
Something about those words stirred a memory.
Then it hit me.
Two days before the delivery, while I was waiting for my final prenatal appointment, a woman had approached me in the hospital cafeteria.
She had dark hair.
A green coat.
And she had looked at my pregnant belly for a very long time.
I remembered her smiling.
I remembered her saying,
“She’s beautiful already.”
I had assumed she was talking about the baby.
But I had never seen her before.
And I had never seen her again.
Until now.
Or rather, until Toby told me she had come to see me.
“Did she come into my hospital room?”
Toby nodded.
“While I was sleeping?”
Another nod.
“What did she do?”
“I don’t know.”
His voice became quieter.
“But she was crying.”
I felt cold.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did she touch the baby?”
Toby looked at me.
Then he whispered,
“She touched her hand.”
I closed my eyes.
The room seemed to tilt around me.
My baby was dead.
That was what the doctors had told me.
That was what Lucas had told me.
That was what Brenda had told me.
But my eight-year-old son had seen a woman carrying away something that was crying.
I needed answers.
And I needed them now.
I walked into the hallway.
Lucas was standing at the end of it.
He was watching me.
Neither of us spoke.
His face changed when he saw Toby behind me.
“Toby,” he said quietly.
My son immediately grabbed my hand.
I stepped between them.
“What did you do?”
Lucas frowned.
“What?”
“What did you do at the hospital?”
His face went pale.
“What are you talking about?”
“Toby told me.”
For several seconds, Lucas just stared at me.
Then he looked at our son.
“Toby…”
My voice shook.
“Don’t you dare blame him.”
Lucas took a step toward me.
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Then tell me the truth.”
“I have.”
“No.”
I felt tears burning my eyes.
“You haven’t.”
He looked terrified.
And that frightened me more than anything.
Because Lucas wasn’t surprised.
He wasn’t confused.
He looked like a man whose secret had finally been discovered.
“Who was the woman?” I demanded.
Lucas closed his eyes.
