Relieved though still searching, Audra continued on. The doodling and handwriting developed with his age. And then he shifted to collages. Ticket stubs and candy wrappers overlapped various strips from the Sunday comics. Newspaper photos and magazine ads had been trimmed to fit the pages: an amusement park ride, a baseball stadium, a picnic in the park. Together, they formed a compilation of Jack’s favorite things.
The Eiffel Tower, though, surprised her. As did the cruise.
She studied them closer, until the connection became achingly clear: He wasn’t featuring the places in the scenes; it was the people. All were families, smiling and laughing, hugging, holding hands. They were the unbreakable units that had once created the security of Jack’s world.
The doorbell rang. Audra flinched, and a tear broke free, catching the journal’s edge. She dried it with her sleeve and tucked the book away.
A rapping on the door followed. The maintenance guy from the building wasn’t due until two. He must have squeezed her in early to keep her leaky fridge from forming another lake. Either that or he wanted a head start on his weekend.
Regrouping, she made her way to the door and swung it open.
The man wasn’t one she recognized. He had no coveralls or box of tools.
“You’re here,” he said, sounding relieved. “I wasn’t sure if . . . that is, well, I hate to bother you, but I was hoping you could help me.”
At the pause, she said, “I can try.”
An unreadable smile formed on his lips. “The questions I’ve got will probably seem unusual....”
The remark tipped her off, and she bristled. He had to be a journalist, likely the same one who had aggravated her situation at work. His unassuming attire—a rust-hued button-down shirt and jeans—was clearly a strategic move.
“If you’re the reporter who came to the clinic, I can tell you right now, you’ve caused me more trouble than I needed. Now, I’m asking you nicely, please leave us alone.” She reached for the doorknob.
“No, wait.” He stepped forward. “That’s not me. I’m not a reporter.” His mix of sincerity and urgency prevented her from closing the door. Still, she remained cautious.
“Then who are you?”
“I’m Sean Malloy. At the festival, I heard the security guard say your name on his radio. I apologize if I’m intruding, coming here like this, but you took off so fast.”
The soldier. From the stage.
In the chaos of finding Jack, she had barely given him a glance.
“The thing is,” he explained, “we hit a roadside bomb, over in Afghanistan. My team was on patrol. Part of my memory was wiped out. I’ve been trying everything I can to get it back. Visiting old places and people I knew. When your son came and talked to me, I figured somehow we must’ve known each other.”
Audra tried to keep up, the conversation so unexpected. She had assumed his uniform alone had reeled in her son.
She studied the man’s face, hoping to solve the mystery, not just for his sake, but Jack’s. In the soft natural light, Sean’s eyes were the color of topaz. His hair was sandy-brown, worn short on the sides, longer on top. Around his late thirties, he had a strong jaw and his complexion promised a tan from the smallest rays of sun.
All were nice traits but none of them familiar.
“I’m afraid we’d never met before.” She hid her disappointment that felt selfish given his situation.
“But your son,” he said, “how else could he have known?”
“I ... don’t know what you mean.”
With a quizzical look, Sean pulled a necklace from beneath the collar of his shirt. He dangled the round golden charm for her to see. An inscription of tiny letters appeared on the aged trinket.
“Viel Feind, viel Ehr,” he read aloud. “An old German saying. It’s what your son said to me that day.”
An icy shiver rippled through her. Was that the phrase Jack had recited after she’d questioned him in the car? It sounded similar enough, but that didn’t make sense. Even if he knew the adage, the coincidence of repeating it to a stranger who owned the same engraving ...
Of course. The engraving.
It was so simple, so obvious.
“He read your necklace,” she realized. “He must have, when he saw you wearing it.”
Sean shook his head. “I was in Class A’s, ma’am. I wasn’t wearing any jewelry.”
His certainty struck her as a challenge. “Well ... maybe you forgot to take it off.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then, you must’ve misheard him.”
Sean’s expression mirrored the doubt she felt, yet she refused to let hers show. With every passing day, her logical reasoning and understanding of Jack drifted further from her grasp.