The silence on the other end was so complete I thought the call had dropped.
Then I heard her breathe.
“Are you safe?” she asked.
Those were her first words.
Not who gave you this number. Not why are you calling. Not how dare you.
Are you safe?
I started crying.
“I am now.”
Claire’s voice changed. “You’re pregnant.”
“Yes.”
“How far?”
“Thirty weeks tomorrow.”
She whispered something I couldn’t hear.
“I got your letter,” I said. “I don’t know how. It came to the apartment.”
“I mailed it months ago,” she said. “I thought Linda intercepted it.”
“She may have. My father found it in a stack of mail.”
“Your father?”
“Colonel James Bennett.”
Another silence.
Then Claire gave a fragile laugh. “That explains why you’re safe.”
We spoke for twelve minutes. She did not tell me everything. Not yet. She said trust was hard for her, and I understood that better than I wished to. But she confirmed the little boy was Ryan’s son. His name was Noah.
