“How old is he?”
Lucas answered himself.
“Eight.”
“When is your birthday?”
The principal looked uneasy.
Lucas said:
“October nineteenth.”
The room tilted.
Noah’s birthday.
My twins’ birthday.
I stood so abruptly the chair scraped the floor.
Principal Warren said:
“Mrs. Bennett?”
I walked toward the window.
October nineteenth.
Same face.
Same birthmark.
Same age.
Same city.
There are coincidences.
Then there are things the body understands before the mind agrees to understand them.
I turned toward Lucas.
“Were you born in Bellmere?”
He shrugged.
“I think so.”
The door opened.
A woman rushed in.
“Lucas?”
She went directly to him.
Early forties.
Dark hair pulled into a loose ponytail.
Medical scrubs under a winter coat.
She checked his face and arms.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Then she looked at me.
Her expression changed.
Not because she recognized me.
Because she saw Noah.
Her eyes moved between the boys.
