I stepped aside and let her enter.
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She immediately hurried to the babies, checking their blankets and gently touching their little hands.Pick Accessories
“Are you their mother?” I asked.
She nodded.
“Where is Lucas?”
“Nearby,” she replied. “He’s afraid you’ll turn him away.”
I stared at her in disbelief.
“Tell him I’ve spent three years looking for him. Then ask him what he thinks I’m afraid of.”
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Hannah lowered her eyes.Shop Baby Gear
I was forty-six years old when that letter arrived. Lucas had been eighteen when he disappeared on an ordinary January morning, leaving behind his car, his belongings, and a mother who couldn’t understand what had happened.
I had replayed our last conversation thousands of times. I had searched for him, questioned his friends, and followed every possible lead. I had never stopped wondering whether he was safe, whether he was hungry, whether he was somewhere wishing he could come home.
