Chapter 9 - THE BOY WHO KNEW HIS SISTER'S NAME
Noah Harrington was sitting on a swing when I first saw him.
He wore a green jacket.
Blue sneakers.
And a dinosaur backpack nearly as large as his shoulders.
His adoptive parents, Richard and Allison, stood nearby.
We'd arranged the meeting through attorneys and a child psychologist after preliminary testing strongly supported the biological relationship.
The legal process was still ongoing.
I knew that.
But the moment I saw him, my heart seemed to recognize something my mind hadn't fully accepted.
Noah looked up.
His green eyes met mine.
I stopped breathing.
"Hello," he said.
My throat tightened.
"Hi, Noah."
He tilted his head.
"You're the man from the news."
I nodded.
"Yes."
He studied me carefully.
"Mom says you might be my other dad."
I looked toward Allison.
Her eyes were filled with tears.
I crouched.
"That's what we're trying to understand, buddy."
Noah frowned.
"Do you like dinosaurs?"
I almost laughed.
My daughter had asked me the exact same question.
"Very much."
He smiled.
"Good."
Then he held out a small plastic triceratops.
"This one's named Thunder."
I took it gently.
"That's a great name."
Noah climbed off the swing.
"Do you have kids?"
My chest tightened.
"I have a little girl named Emma."
He froze.
"Emma?"
I nodded.
His eyes widened.
"That's the name of the girl in my dreams."
I looked at Allison.
She stepped closer.
"Noah has been talking about a little girl for years."
My heart pounded.
"What does he say?"
"That she has brown hair and wears yellow pajamas."
I covered my mouth.
Emma's favorite pajamas were yellow.
Allison continued.
"He says they used to be together."
The child psychologist gently explained that early memories and stories Noah had heard might be mixing together.
But I couldn't stop wondering whether some part of him remembered his sister.
Noah looked at me.
"Can I meet Emma?"
My eyes filled.
"I would like that very much."
He smiled.
Then reached for Allison's hand.
"Can she come to my birthday party?"
Allison began crying.
I looked at her.
She had raised my son for five years.
Loved him.
Comforted him.
Taught him to walk.
Held him through fevers.
Celebrated every birthday I'd missed.
I could never repay that.
And I would not punish her for a crime she hadn't committed.
"Only if your mom and dad think it's okay," I said.
Noah grinned.
"Okay!"
Then he ran toward the playground.
Allison turned to me.
"Michael, there's something else."
I looked at her.
She hesitated.
"When we adopted Noah, we received a sealed letter from the agency."
My pulse quickened.
"From whom?"
"We were told it was from his birth mother."
I stared.
"Claire?"
Allison nodded.
"But we didn't open it. The agency said it was meant for Noah when he turned eighteen."
I swallowed.
"Do you still have it?"
"Yes."
She reached into her handbag.
Then handed me a photocopy of the envelope.
Claire's handwriting.
I recognized it instantly.
But it wasn't addressed to Noah.
It was addressed to me.
Michael Rivers.
May you like
And beneath my name were five words.
Only open when both children meet.
