For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she opened the door wider.
“You should come inside.”
Every instinct told me something was wrong.
Still, I stepped onto the porch.
The front room was small but clean.
A worn couch sat against one wall.
Children’s books were stacked inside a plastic crate near the television.
I noticed them immediately.
Then I saw the tiny blue sneakers near the hallway.
My chest tightened.
“Do you have a child?”
Sadie froze.
Jasper walked toward the hallway and disappeared around the corner.
Before she could answer, a small voice called from another room.
“Mommy?”
I looked at Sadie.
She closed her eyes briefly.
Then a little boy appeared around the corner.
He looked about three years old.
He wore dinosaur pajamas even though it was the middle of the afternoon.
His brown hair stuck up on one side.
I forgot how to breathe.
There was something about his face.
Something painfully familiar.
His eyes.
The shape of his mouth.
The way one eyebrow sat slightly higher than the other.
Caleb used to make that exact expression whenever he was confused.
The boy pointed at me.
“Who’s that?”
Sadie’s voice shook.
“This is Diane.”
The little boy smiled.
“Hi.”
I couldn’t answer.
I looked at Sadie.
“No.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Diane.”
“No.”
“I wanted to tell you.”
My hands began trembling.
“Tell me what?”
She looked at the little boy.
“Beau, sweetheart, can you go play with Jasper?”
He hesitated.
“Can I have crackers?”
“Yes.”
“Two?”
Sadie managed a weak smile.
“Two.”
He disappeared toward the kitchen, with Jasper following closely behind him.
I waited until he was gone.
Then I faced Sadie.
“Tell me.”
Sadie slowly sat down.
I remained standing.
“Beau is Caleb’s son.”
The room seemed to tilt beneath me.
I grabbed the back of a chair.
“What?”
Sadie wiped her face.
“I found out I was pregnant after Caleb died.”
I stared at her.
Every sound around me suddenly seemed distant.
The refrigerator hummed.
A dog collar jingled somewhere in the kitchen.
A child opened a cabinet.
I heard all of it.
Yet I could barely understand what the woman sitting five feet away from me had just said.
“You knew for three years?”
“I didn’t know before the accident.”
