Page 42 of Everything We Give

He held up both hands. “No, you’re right. It’s best this way.” Then he smiled, the first genuine smile I’d seen on him since he left for Mexico before our wedding. My throat tightened with emotion.

“I met someone. I knew her from when I was Carlos, but I got to know her as me. Her name’s Natalya. I’m falling in love with her.”

I’d be lying if I said his words didn’t hurt. But the happiness I felt on his behalf was stronger. I congratulated him; then we talked about his sons and how Carlos came to be in Mexico. He explained that Thomas had hidden him by having him placed in that country’s witness protection program. Then the time came to say good-bye, and in this instance, James did hug me. He told me to take care of myself and I said the same to him. I turned to leave, but then he called my name.

“I need to talk with your husband. Do you mind if I contact him?”

I hadn’t given him an answer because the weight of our conversation was starting to hit me. But he obviously had spoken to Ian this afternoon, I think, holding Lacy’s card. And Ian hadn’t mentioned it.

I’d deal with my husband about that later.

I text James.

You met with Ian. Where did you get Lacy’s card?

It’s late, almost twelve thirty. I have no idea if he’s back in Hawaii or still in California. I don’t care. I send the text, not expecting a response until morning. I toss the phone aside and start to rise when it pings.

He didn’t tell you?

No, he didn’t. But I’m not going to tell James that.

Another text pings.

Lacy gave it to me.

He met Lacy? My thumbs tap-dance across the keyboard.

When? Where? What did she want?

Last month. She found me on a beach in Kauai.

My body feels freezer-box cold. I shiver. OK, that’s creepy.

She said I knew someone who’d need her card. That he’d been looking for her. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to make you more uncomfortable than our conversation yesterday had.

I have no idea how James deduced Lacy wanted him to pass along her card to Ian, but here we are. Lacy’s back and there’s a good chance she has information about Sarah, which explains Ian’s renewed interest in finding his mother.

Dammit, Ian, why didn’t you tell me?

Another text comes through.

Aimee?

Yes?

Good night.

I let him have the last word. Despite the hour, I call Lacy’s number. It rings once before a recording answers. “The number you have reached—”

I end the call, not at all surprised. Ian wouldn’t have reached her either. The number on the card is more than a month old. We’ll never learn what she knows about Sarah or how she can help Ian find his mom.

But I do know of one person who might be able to. Lord, help me.

CHAPTER 12

IAN, AGE ELEVEN

Ian might have eaten cereal for dinner, but he hadn’t spent the entire night alone. His mom returned around two in the morning. He knew the time because he’d been lying awake, ever watchful of the numbers on his digital clock until he heard the crunch of gravel. Headlights brightened his room as the station wagon came to a stop in front of the detached garage. The engine cut and his room returned to black. Keys rattled and the front door opened. A few seconds later the bottom step on the stairs creaked and that was it. He heard nothing further. Ian loosened his grip on the sheets he’d been clutching. Lungs filled to the max expelled.

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