“How?” I finally managed. “Ray. How did you… how did you know?”
Ray looked at me over Caleb’s head.
“He called me,” he said simply.
I stared at him.
“Two weeks ago. On your house phone.” He paused. “I tried to tell you. I called you. I left a message.”
The voicemail. The one I’d let ring on my desk at work and turned face down and never opened. Eleven voicemails in three years, and this was the twelfth.
“I didn’t listen to it,” I whispered.
“Yeah,” Ray said gently. “I figured.”
Caleb let go of Ray and turned around. He was wiping his face again, but he was looking at me straight. No shrug. No fine.
“I asked him not to tell you,” he said. “I knew you’d say no.”
“Caleb…”
“You would have. You said no to everything.” His voice was shaking, but he kept going. “You said no to the barbecue. You said no to the baseball game. You told Uncle Ray to go away. I heard you.”
