My boyfriend disappeared the night I told him I was pregnant. But when Grandpa finally saw our baby’s eyes, his reaction made me wonder if his disappearance wasn’t random.
The hospital disappeared in my rearview mirror as Nora slept beside me, finally coming home after thirteen days in the NICU. I thought the worst was behind us.
My daughter had Caleb’s dark curls, his cleft chin, and his eyes – one bright blue, the other nearly black.
My parents died when I was ten.
“Someone in the family must have them, too,” the discharge nurse had said.
“Her father,” I’d whispered. I hadn’t said his name out loud in months.
Caleb had disappeared the same night I told him about the pregnancy.
