“I do.”
“So are you hiding stuff?”
“Yes.”
He looked at the photograph again.
“So are you hiding stuff?”
“I need a little time,” I said. “But I won’t leave you wondering forever.”
He nodded.
Not happily.
But he nodded.
And now I had no excuse not to act.
“But I won’t leave you wondering forever.”
***
An old class photo in the program had his first name beneath it. After several wrong profiles, I found him.
I sent one message.
“My name is Elizabeth. I’m Teagan’s mother. I need to speak with you.”
His reply came two hours later.
“Lucas?”
One word.
He knew the name.
“I’m Teagan’s mother. I need to speak with you.”
***
We met the next morning.
He was already seated, turning his coffee cup in small circles just as he had at my kitchen table ten years earlier.
“You knew his name,” I said.
“Teagan told me.”
“Then you knew about him.”
“Teagan told me.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you come?”
“I did.”
I stared at him.
“I came to the hospital.”
Trudy’s words rushed back.
“Why didn’t you come?”
“You were there.”
He nodded.
“My parents wanted me to stay away. They thought a baby would ruin everything I’d planned.”
“And what did you think?”
“I was scared. I loved Teagan, but I let everybody else tell me what my life should be.”
“That explains eighteen, not ten years.”
“You were there.”
He looked down.
“Teagan told me not to come back until I was willing to choose for myself. I finally did.”
