Mrs. Alvarez looked at her notes.
“There is a visitor entry under Whitney Hayes the next afternoon.”
My heart sank.
“She told me she couldn’t come,” I said.
Evelyn’s face softened with sorrow.
Richard’s voice was controlled. “Was she admitted to Claire’s room?”
“No,” Mrs. Alvarez said. “She signed in, stayed approximately eighteen minutes, and left.”
Just enough time to see Noah.
Not me.
Noah.
When the administrator left, no one spoke for a long while.
The discharge papers sat on the rolling table. The tulips leaned toward the window. Noah slept with his tiny hand open, trusting the world completely.
I looked at Daniel.
“Why would she hide this from you?”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“Maybe because she knew I’d ask questions.”
“What questions?”
He lowered his hands.
“My family has a genetic condition,” he said. “Nothing dangerous in most cases, but visible. A distinctive gray-green eye pattern that usually appears in infancy. My mother mentioned it when Whitney and I first got engaged. She made a joke about future grandchildren having ‘the Harrow eyes.’ Whitney became upset and changed the subject.”
