“Because of her eyes.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out an old photograph.
It was creased and yellow with age.
He handed it to me.
I stared at the picture.
Two young men stood beside a vintage car.
One was unmistakably my grandfather.
The other had dark hair and a sharp jaw.
And his eyes—
One blue.
One brown.
I couldn’t breathe.
“That was Daniel,” Samuel said.
My fingers trembled.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“That can’t be.”
“Look at his face.”
I did.
Then I looked at my daughter.
The resemblance was undeniable.
Not just the eyes.
The shape of the eyebrows.
The cleft in the chin.
Even the way the dark curls formed around the forehead.
I looked at Samuel.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t know Ethan was connected to Daniel.”
“But you knew the name.”
“Yes.”
“And you never asked to meet him.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Samuel’s face collapsed.
“Because I was afraid.”
“Of Ethan?”
“Of what he might be looking for.”
My stomach twisted.
“What would he be looking for?”
Samuel didn’t answer.
Instead, he stood and walked into the house.
I followed him.
He went straight to the hallway closet.
