“Ethan who?”
Mara said nothing.
“Is Ethan your son?”
“No.”
“Were you sleeping with Jack?”
“No.”
“Then who is he?”
“I can’t tell you.”
I actually laughed.
“You come to a pregnant widow’s house with a letter from her dead husband telling her to find a five-year-old boy, and you can’t tell me who he is?”
“Jack wanted you to decide whether to keep looking.”
“Why?”
“Because once you know, you can’t unknow it.”
“Stop talking like you’re in a movie.”
She flinched.
“You’re right.”
“Who are you?”
“I grew up in care. Jack and I knew each other from the children’s home.”
That stopped me. My eyes filled with tears.
Jack almost never talked about those years.
“You knew him as a kid?”
“Yes.”
“And now?”
“I work with families and children moving through the system.”
“Was that why you were at the hospital?”
