Chapter 7 - The Man Noah Became When He Thought He Was Going to Lose Me
After Gabriel's arrest, life did not become normal immediately.
There were court dates.
Investigations.
News reports.
Questions.
My father's name appeared everywhere.
So did Noah's.
But something inside us had changed.
We had survived.
My father recovered slowly.
My mother came home.
Adrian reunited with his family.
Elise moved to Chicago.
The tailor shop reopened.
And Noah started visiting every morning.
Sometimes he brought coffee.
Sometimes breakfast.
Sometimes he just stood there pretending he had business.
One morning I caught him reorganizing buttons.
“You're terrible at this.”
He looked offended.
“They're buttons.”
“Exactly.”
He smiled.
“You're impossible.”
“You keep coming back.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He looked at me.
“You know why.”
I did.
But I wanted him to say it.
“Tell me.”
He stepped closer.
“I don't know how to be gentle.”
“I've noticed.”
“I don't know how to date.”
“That is obvious.”
“I don't know how to ask someone out without making it sound like a threat.”
I laughed.
“Try.”
He took a breath.
“Would you have dinner with me?”
“Maybe.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You're enjoying this.”
“A little.”
“Maya.”
“Yes?”
“Dinner.”
I smiled.
“Yes.”
It was the strangest date in the world.
He chose a quiet restaurant.
No guards at the table.
No business.
No weapons.
Just food.
He asked about my childhood.
I asked about his.
He told me he once wanted to be a mechanic.
I laughed.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“You?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“My father.”
He became quiet.
“I learned very young that dreams were luxuries.”
I reached across the table.
His hand closed around mine.
“I don't want that life anymore.”
“What life?”
“The one where everyone around me is afraid.”
I looked at him.
“Then build another.”
“With you?”
I swallowed.
“If you want.”
He smiled.
“I do.”
For a while, things felt peaceful.
Then one afternoon, a package arrived at the shop.
No return address.
Inside was a baby shoe.
And a note.
One family member was forgotten.
I stared at the shoe.
“Baby?”
Noah read the note.
His face went pale.
My father entered.
He saw it.
“Where did you get that?”
“It was delivered.”
He sat heavily.
“There was another child.”
I stared.
“Another?”
My father nodded.
Before my mother disappeared, she had been pregnant.
With a baby girl.
She had been declared stillborn.
But my father never believed it.
“What was her name?”
“Anna.”
My mother's face went white.
“Anna survived.”
“How?”
“She was taken.”
“By Gabriel?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
My father looked at Noah.
“The Moretti family doctor.”
Noah's eyes hardened.
“That doctor died.”
“His son is alive.”
We followed the clue to a private adoption agency.
Records had been falsified.
A child named Anna Bell had been adopted nineteen years earlier.
By a wealthy family in Michigan.
But there was a problem.
The girl had died in an accident at sixteen.
I thought the story was over.
Then I saw her photograph.
It was not Anna.
The photograph was of another child.
The name had been switched.
Someone was still protecting Anna.
Why?
Because she carried something.
A rare blood type.
A medical condition.
And a matching record.
My mother was the donor.
Anna was the recipient.
The child had been used in an illegal medical scheme.
My mother began crying.
“My daughter.”
Noah placed his hand on my shoulder.
“We'll find her.”
My father looked at him.
“You promise?”
“Yes.”
May you like
This time, Noah's promise wasn't to my father.
It was to us.
