Part 2: Eight Days of Silence
Fear does strange things to your sense of time.
Minutes turn into hours.
Hours become possibilities you don’t want to consider.
I called Ethan over and over.
Nothing.
I checked local accident reports.
I called hospitals.
I searched online news pages for crashes along the routes he might have traveled.
By Tuesday afternoon, I was seriously thinking about calling the police.
The twins knew something was wrong.
Children always know.
I tried to shield them from my fear.
“Your dad got delayed,” I said.
Mia accepted the explanation more easily.
Lucas didn’t.
He watched my face whenever my phone rang. He noticed whenever I went into another room to make calls.
Then, shortly after dinner Tuesday, my phone buzzed.
A message from Ethan.
I’m safe. I’m sorry. Please give me a few more days. The kids are safe with you. I’ll explain everything.
I stared at the screen.
Safe.
Relief swept through me so quickly my knees weakened.
Then relief turned into fury.
I called immediately.
He didn’t answer.
I called again.
Nothing.
“Ethan,” I whispered at my phone, “you have got to be kidding me.”
Over the next several days, I swung between wanting to hug my son and wanting to shake him until his teeth rattled.
What could possibly be so important that he couldn’t tell me where he was?
Meanwhile, Lucas and Mia began asking strange questions.
“Grandma,” Lucas asked one morning, “can someone have brothers and sisters if they don’t have the same mom and dad?”
“Of course.”
He nodded thoughtfully.
The next day, Mia asked, “Can someone have two families?”
I assumed the questions came from something at school.
Maybe a classmate’s blended family.
Maybe a book.
I answered as naturally as possible.
“Yes. Families come in all kinds of shapes.”
Neither child explained why they were asking.
On the eighth day, I was watering the plants near the front porch when a silver SUV turned into my driveway.
I knew immediately it was Ethan.
I dropped the hose.
Before he had even switched off the engine, I was halfway across the yard.
He stepped out looking exhausted.
His clothes were wrinkled. Dark circles surrounded his eyes. Several days of stubble covered his face.
I didn’t care.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve put me through?”
“I know, Mom.”
“No, you don’t. You said two days! I thought you could be lying in a hospital somewhere!”
“I’m sorry.”
“You lied about where you were going!”
“I know.”
“You disappear for over a week, send one ridiculous message, and…”
Then the rear passenger door opened.
I stopped talking.
A little girl climbed out.
She looked about five.
Her long brown hair appeared as though nobody had managed to brush it properly that morning, and she wore a pale yellow hoodie while clutching a stuffed rabbit tightly against her chest.
She stayed close to the car.
Not until Ethan came around to her side did she move.
He held out his hand.
Without hesitation, she placed her tiny fingers inside his.
Then she looked at me.
Her face brightened.
“Dad,” she said, glancing up at Ethan, “is that Grandma?”
The word hit me so hard that for a moment I wondered whether I had heard her correctly.
Dad?
She smiled shyly at me.
“I have my own blanket at Dad’s house.”
Ethan closed his eyes.
Only for a moment.
But I saw it.
My voice became very quiet.
“Ethan.”
“Mom…”
“Who is this child?”
His jaw tightened.
“Her name is Harper.”
“And why is Harper calling you Dad?”
Before he could answer, my front door flew open.
“Dad!”
Lucas and Mia raced across the porch.
Harper immediately hid partly behind Ethan.
Mia stopped when she saw her.
Lucas stared.
For one long second, nobody moved.
Then Lucas suddenly ran inside.
“What on earth…”
He came back carrying a folded piece of paper.
It was a drawing that had been hanging on my refrigerator for weeks.
Three children stood beneath a giant orange sun.
I had assumed the third child was imaginary.
Lucas unfolded the picture and held it beside Harper.
“It’s her,” he said.
Mia stepped closer.
“Did you bring Clover?”
Harper held up her stuffed rabbit.
Mia grinned.
“I told Grandma you take him everywhere.”
My heart sank.
These children weren’t seeing Harper for the first time.
They already knew her.
They knew her favorite toy.
They knew what she looked like.
They knew she spent time at Ethan’s house.
I slowly turned toward my son.
“What have you been hiding from me?”
For illustrative purposes only
