“I have a name.”
I pulled the door open and nearly dropped to my knees!
Ethan stood on the porch, thinner than I remembered, rain dripping from his hair. In one arm, he held a tiny newborn wrapped in a hospital blanket. In his other hand was a battered suitcase.
“Ethan?” I whispered. “Whose baby is that? Where have you been?”
He didn’t answer.
His fingers trembled hard enough that the baby’s blanket fluttered.
