He looked at Hannah first.
Then me.
“Hello,” he said.
That voice.
Deeper now.
Uncertain.
But underneath it, I heard the little boy who used to call me from the backyard.
I stood slowly.
“Hello, Benjamin.”
He flinched slightly.
“They call me Eli.”
I swallowed.
“Then I’ll call you Eli if that’s what you prefer.”
He nodded.
We sat opposite each other.
A counselor remained nearby.
For several minutes, nobody spoke.
Then he looked at the old photograph in my hands.
It showed our family on a beach.
Grant standing behind me.
All eight children laughing.
Benjamin was making rabbit ears behind Oliver’s head.
“I remember that,” he whispered.
I held my breath.
“You do?”
“Not all of it.”
He leaned forward.
“The water was freezing.”
I nodded, tears gathering.
“You refused to go swimming.”
“And Dad threw me in.”
I laughed through my tears.
“He carried you into the shallow water because you wouldn’t stop complaining.”
