The first thing everyone noticed about her was her face.
She had Ethan’s dark curls and a small cleft in her chin. But her eyes were what made people pause: one was a clear blue, while the other was deep brown.
Ethan had the same unusual eyes.
Once we were discharged, I drove directly to Grandpa’s cottage.
He was sitting on the porch when I arrived. The moment he saw us, he stood with a wide smile.
“There are my girls,” he said.
I placed my daughter carefully in his arms.
His smile faded.
He looked from her blue eye to her brown one. His hands tightened slightly around the blanket, not from anger, but from shock.
“Grandpa?” I asked.
His face had lost all color.
“Who was her father?”
The question startled me.
“The man I told you about,” I said. “His name was Ethan Vale.”
Grandpa Samuel looked up at me with an expression I had never seen before—grief, fear, and recognition all at once.
“Ethan Vale,” he repeated.
“Yes. Why?”
He held my daughter closer and looked at her again.
“Mara,” he said quietly, “there is something about that name I should have told you a long time ago.”
