The Boy With Ethan's Eyes
Chapter 04 - The Boy With Ethan's Eyes
I stared at the photograph until the screen dimmed.
Then I turned it back on and stared again.
The resemblance was not subtle.
The boy had Ethan’s crooked left eyebrow.
The same deep-set eyes.
The same serious expression people mistook for sadness until Ethan smiled.
I hated that I could see it.
I hated even more that part of me had already accepted it.
My sister, Natalie, arrived the next morning.
She took one look at my face and asked the nurse to hold Emma for five minutes.
Then she sat beside me.
“What happened?”
I handed her the phone.
She read Vanessa’s message.
Then she looked at the photograph.
“Oh, Grace.”
Those two words almost broke me.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel.”
“All of it.”
“I’m angry at Ethan.”
“You should be.”
“I’m angry at his parents.”
“You should be.”
“I’m angry at a woman who walked into my hospital room with flowers like she was delivering a funeral notice.”
Natalie gave me a tired smile.
“You’re allowed to be angry at her too.”
“I’m also relieved she came.”
“That’s the problem with truth. It can hurt you and rescue you at the same time.”
I leaned back.
“Did I marry a liar?”
Natalie did not answer quickly.
She knew better.
“You married a man who was lied to,” she said. “And who also chose not to ask a question when he had the chance.”
That was exactly it.
The complication I could not escape.
Ethan arrived after lunch.
He brought no flowers.
No apology speech.
He stood at the door until I told him he could enter.
“I called Vanessa,” he said.
I looked up.
“And?”
“She said Noah doesn’t want to meet me.”
The pain in his voice was raw.
I forced myself not to soften too fast.
“He has that right.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
He sat down.
“I’m trying to.”
That answer was better than defensiveness.
Not enough.
Better.
He told me Vanessa had explained the silver compass.
Claire had kept it.
Years ago, Ethan had given it to her after graduation, telling her it was supposed to mean that no matter how lost they became, they would find their way back.
Claire gave it to Noah before she died.
I closed my eyes.
“That sounds like something you would do.”
“I forgot I ever said it.”
“She didn’t.”
“No.”
We sat in silence.
Then I asked the question I had been avoiding.
“Did you love her?”
Ethan looked at me.
“Yes.”
I flinched.
He did not rush to repair the answer.
“I loved her then,” he said. “I love you now.”
“Those things can both be true.”
“Yes.”
“Did you marry me because you thought she was gone?”
“No.”
He leaned forward.
“Grace, please believe this part. You are not a replacement for Claire.”
I wanted to believe him.
But trust does not return because a sentence is well phrased.
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Wrong answer.”
He looked startled.
“You have a son.”
His face tightened.
“A son who doesn’t want to see me.”
“That doesn’t remove your responsibility.”
“I don’t want to force myself into his life.”
“Then don’t force. Show up.”
He looked at me carefully.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know yet.”
I looked toward Emma, sleeping in the bassinet.
“But I know what it cannot mean.”
“What?”
“You cannot make Noah carry the weight of whether you become his father.”
Ethan’s eyes filled.
I continued.
“He is nine. You are thirty-one. You do the hard part.”
He nodded slowly.
“I will.”
I wanted to believe that too.
Then there was a knock on the door.
Margaret stood outside.
Alone.
She looked smaller without Robert.
“May I come in?”
I almost said no.
Then I saw the envelope in her hand.
Not because I wanted evidence.
Because she looked terrified of what was inside.
Ethan stood.
“What is that?”
Margaret entered.
She placed the envelope on the table.
“I kept something I should have destroyed.”
Vanessa had told us Claire sent messages.
Margaret’s envelope contained one of them.
But when Ethan opened it, the letter was not addressed to him.
It was addressed to me.
Written six years before Claire died.
Before Ethan and I had ever met.
May you like
At the top, in Claire’s handwriting, were the words:
To the woman Ethan loves someday.
