That afternoon I made an apple pie. Once it cooled enough to carry safely, I walked across the lawn holding it carefully with both hands.
I knocked on the door.
It opened almost immediately.
I smiled automatically when the door swung open.
But the moment I looked up, my smile disappeared.
The pie slipped from my hands and shattered on the porch, but I barely noticed.
All I could see was the boy standing in front of me.
His face.
The same slightly curly hair.
The same sharp chin.
And the same unusual eyes—one blue and one brown.
“Daniel?” I whispered without thinking.
The boy blinked in confusion.
“Ma’am? Are you okay? Did the pie burn you?”
He stepped forward, carefully avoiding the broken plate pieces.
He was staring straight into my eyes, and the closer I looked, the more impossible it seemed.
My son had the same rare condition—heterochromia. One blue eye, one brown.
“Ma’am?” he asked again gently, placing a hand on my shoulder.
I inhaled slowly, trying to steady myself.
“How old are you?” I asked.
He frowned slightly.
“Uh… nineteen.”
Nineteen.
The same age Lucas would have been.
“Ryan? Is everything okay? I heard something break.”
A woman’s voice called from inside the house.