When Anne Opened Her Eyes
Anne woke the following afternoon.
The first word she spoke was Sarah’s name.
Sarah was allowed into the room under a nurse’s supervision. She hurried to the bedside and placed Luna beside her mother’s hand.
“I tried to pay with my dolls,” she announced. “But the hospital lady said no.”
Anne’s tired eyes widened.
“You did what?”
“I brought all three. Even Emma.”
Anne’s lips trembled into a weak smile.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
“Then the tall man paid. He said you gave him hope.”
Anne turned toward the doorway.
Matthew stood there holding the old photograph.
For several seconds, neither of them spoke.
Anne studied his face as though searching beneath the years.
Then her eyes filled with tears.
“Matt?”
No executive, journalist, or business partner had called him that in decades.
He stepped into the room.
“Hello, Annie.”
Anne covered her mouth.
“You found me.”
“I stopped looking.”
The honesty of the words hung heavily between them.
Matthew moved closer.
“I’m sorry.”
Anne shook her head.
“We were children.”
“I had people who could have searched. I had resources. I kept telling myself I would do it when things became less busy.”
“Did they ever become less busy?”
“No.”
Anne looked at Sarah, who was arranging her dolls along the windowsill.
“They never do.”
Matthew placed the photograph on the bedside table.
“You kept this.”
“You kept the pouch?”
He stared at her.
“How did you know?”
“You were the kind of boy who kept things.”
A quiet laugh escaped him.
“You were right about one thing. I built something important.”
“I know. Your face is on magazines at the grocery store.”
“And you never contacted me?”
Anne’s expression changed.
“For what? To say that your childhood friend couldn’t pay her rent? To ask you to rescue me?”
“You wouldn’t have been asking a stranger.”
“I didn’t want your money, Matt.”
Matthew glanced at Sarah.
“But you needed someone.”
Anne’s eyes filled with shame.
“I thought I could handle everything.”
Sarah turned from the window.
“Mommy, you said asking for help is brave.”
Anne closed her eyes.
Matthew smiled faintly.
“She sounds like you.”
“No,” Anne whispered. “She’s braver.”
