The boy turned toward the hallway.
“I’m fine, Mom. A neighbor dropped something.”
Mom.
Hearing him call someone else that word sent a strange ache through my chest.
As he crouched to pick up the broken pieces of the plate, a woman appeared behind him.
By then the shock was fading enough for me to force a smile.
“I’m sorry about the mess,” I said. “My son… if he had lived, he probably would have looked very much like your boy.”
Ryan straightened up.
“I’m really sorry for your loss,” he said kindly.
But the woman suddenly went still.
Her eyes moved from me… to her son… and then to his mismatched eyes.
Something in her expression changed.
“Thank you for stopping by,” she said quickly. “But we’re busy right now.”
Before I could say another word, she gently pushed Ryan back inside and shut the door.
I stood there for a moment, stunned.
Then I turned and hurried home.
Mark was sitting in the living room reading when I walked in.
“You’re back already?” he asked.
I sat beside him on the couch.
“The boy next door,” I said slowly.
“What about him?”
“He looks like Lucas.”
Mark closed his book but didn’t respond.