Chapter 2
For several seconds, the diner disappeared around me.
I could still hear plates clinking.
The grill hissed behind the kitchen window.
Somewhere near the back, a baby began crying.
But all I could see was Emily’s handwriting.
Michael, please take care of our son.
Our son.
I looked at the boy again.
His thin shoulders.
His tangled brown hair.
His gray-green eyes.
Emily’s eyes.
My knees almost gave out.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Ethan.”
“How old are you?”
“Six.”
Six.
That number hit me harder than anything else.
Emily had disappeared almost seven years ago.
We had been together for nearly three years.
We had picked out an apartment.
Talked about marriage.
Talked about children.
Then one morning she vanished.
Her phone was disconnected.
Her apartment was empty.
Her employer told me she had quit.
For months I searched.
I called hospitals.
I called relatives.
I even hired a private investigator with money I couldn’t afford.
Nothing.
Eventually everyone told me the same thing.
She had chosen to leave.
I had spent years forcing myself to believe them.
Now a hungry little boy stood in front of me telling me that everything I believed was wrong.
“Where is Emily?” I asked.
Ethan stared down at his bare feet.
“My mommy died.”
My chest tightened.
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
I gripped the edge of the counter.
“How?”
“She was sick.”
“What kind of sick?”
“I don’t know.”
His voice became smaller.
“She coughed a lot. Then she couldn’t get out of bed.”
I swallowed.
“Who were you living with?”
“My mommy.”
“Just you and her?”
He nodded.
“Where?”
“A trailer.”
“Where’s the trailer?”
He hesitated.
“Mr. Ray took it.”
“Who is Mr. Ray?”
“The man who owned the land.”
My cook, Luis, came out carrying a plate piled with scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and potatoes.
He took one look at Ethan and quietly placed the plate on a nearby table.
Ethan stared at the food.
“Go ahead,” I said softly.
He didn’t move.
“You can eat.”
He looked at me.
“All of it?”
“All of it.”
That was when Patricia made an impatient sound behind us.
“This is ridiculous.”
I turned slowly.
She was standing beside her table with her purse tucked under one arm.
Her husband, Frank, sat staring into his coffee as if he wished he could disappear.
Patricia pointed toward Ethan.
“You have no idea if anything that child is saying is true.”
I felt something dangerous rise inside me.
“Patricia.”
“Anyone can carry an old photograph.”
“Leave.”
Her mouth opened.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“I’ve been coming here for six years.”
“And today will be your last visit.”
The entire diner went silent.
Patricia’s face turned red.
“You’re banning me because I told some homeless boy not to beg?”
“No.”
I walked toward her.
“I’m banning you because you humiliated a hungry child for your own entertainment.”
“I did not—”
“You threw food on the floor and told him to crawl for it.”
A man sitting near the window spoke up.
“He’s right. We all saw it.”
Another customer nodded.
“So did I.”
Patricia looked around.
Nobody defended her.
Even Frank wouldn’t look at her.
She snatched her sunglasses off the table.
“This place is going downhill anyway.”
“Then you won’t miss it.”
She stormed toward the door.
Frank stood awkwardly and put some money beside his plate.
“I’m sorry, Michael.”
Patricia spun around.
“Frank!”
He hurried after her.
The door slammed.
I turned back to Ethan.
He had already eaten half the eggs.
Not quickly.
Desperately.
Like someone who had learned that food could disappear if he didn’t eat before someone changed their mind.
“Slow down,” Luis told him gently. “There’s more.”
Ethan stopped chewing.
“More?”
“As much as you need.”
The boy’s eyes filled with tears.
Luis immediately turned away and pretended to wipe the counter.
I sat across from Ethan.
“When your mother died, what happened?”
He took a small bite of toast.
“Police came.”
“Police?”
“A lady came too.”
“Social worker?”
He shrugged.
“She said I had to go with her.”
My stomach twisted.
“Did you?”
“For one night.”
“And then?”
“I ran.”
“Why?”
His fork stopped.
“Because I heard them talking.”
“Talking about what?”
He looked around the diner as if afraid someone might hear.
“They said my uncle was coming.”
“You have an uncle?”
“My mommy called him Uncle Daniel.”
The name meant nothing to me.
“What did she say about him?”
Ethan’s face changed.
“She said if anything happened to her, I should never go with him.”
Every instinct in my body went cold.
“Did she say why?”
He shook his head.
“Just that he was bad.”
I leaned closer.
“How did you know to find me?”
“Mommy gave me the picture.”
“When?”
“The night before the ambulance came.”
“What did she say?”
Ethan wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“She said there was a man named Michael Carter who owned a diner near Dallas. She said you would help me.”
I barely breathed.
“Anything else?”
He nodded.
“She said I should tell you something.”
“What?”
He lowered his voice.
“Bluebird.”
My blood stopped moving.
I stared at him.
“What did you say?”
“Bluebird.”
I hadn’t heard that word in seven years.
It was what Emily used to call the tiny blue house we dreamed of buying someday.
Nobody knew that.
Nobody.
Not my family.
Not my friends.
Not even the private investigator.
Only Emily and me.
Ethan pushed the empty plate away.
“She said if you didn’t believe me, I should say that.”
“I believe you.”
The words came out before I even thought about them.
His eyes lifted.
“You do?”
“Yes.”
For the first time since he walked through the door, something in his face relaxed.
Then the front door opened again.
Two uniformed police officers walked inside.
Ethan saw them.
His face went white.
He jumped from the booth.
“No!”
“Ethan—”
He backed away from me.
“No, no, no!”
One officer raised his hands.
“Easy, buddy.”
Ethan turned and ran toward the kitchen.
I moved between him and the officers.
“What’s going on?”
The older officer looked at me.
“We received a report about a missing child.”
My heart pounded.
“Who reported him missing?”
“A temporary foster placement.”
Ethan had disappeared through the kitchen doors.
I crossed my arms.
“He came here voluntarily.”
“We’re not saying otherwise.”
The younger officer pulled out his phone and checked something.
“His name is Ethan Blake, six years old.”
Blake.
Not Carter.
The older officer continued.
“His mother, Emily Blake, died twenty-three days ago.”
My throat tightened.
“And his father?”
“Not listed on his birth certificate.”
Before I could respond, another person entered the diner.
A woman in her forties carrying a leather folder.
She wore a state identification badge.
“Mr. Carter?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Rachel Monroe. Child Protective Services.”
She glanced toward the kitchen.
“I understand Ethan is here.”
“He is.”
“We need to take him back.”
A scream came from the kitchen.
“Michael!”
I turned.
Ethan stood in the doorway, clutching the frame.
“Please don’t let them take me!”
Rachel’s expression softened.
“Ethan, nobody is going to hurt you.”
“Yes, they are!”
“No one—”
“My uncle is waiting!”
Rachel froze.
I looked at her.
“What uncle?”
She closed her folder.
“Perhaps we should speak privately.”
“No.”
I stepped toward her.
“You can speak right here.”
Her jaw tightened.
“Mr. Carter, this is a child welfare matter.”
“And he just walked into my diner with my picture and a message from his mother saying he may be my son.”
That changed the room.
Both officers looked at me.
Rachel stared.
“You believe you’re Ethan’s biological father?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Ethan cried from the doorway.
“You are!”
Rachel exhaled slowly.
“There is a relative who has petitioned for temporary custody.”
“Daniel?”
Her eyes sharpened.
“How do you know that name?”
“Because Emily apparently told Ethan never to go with him.”
Nobody spoke.
Then the bell above the front door rang one more time.
A tall man stepped inside wearing a dark suit.
He looked to be about forty.
Well-groomed.
Expensive watch.
Perfect smile.
His eyes moved across the room until they found Ethan.
“There you are.”
Ethan screamed.
He ran behind me and wrapped both arms around my waist.
The man smiled at the officers.
“I’m Daniel Blake.”
Then he looked directly at me.
“And you must be Michael Carter.”
I felt Ethan trembling against my back.
May you like
Daniel’s smile widened.
“I’ve been hoping we’d finally meet.”
