Part 1 — The Man Who Vanished
For thirteen days, the only world I knew was the neonatal intensive care unit.
I measured time by feeding schedules, monitor alarms, nurses changing shifts, and the rise and fall of my newborn daughter’s tiny chest.
So when I finally drove away from the hospital with Nora strapped safely into the car seat beside me, relief should have been the only thing I felt.
Instead, I kept glancing at her in the rearview mirror.
She was sleeping peacefully, one miniature fist tucked beside her cheek, completely unaware of how terrified I’d been of losing her.
Nora had inherited so much from her father.
Caleb’s dark curls.
Caleb’s little cleft chin.
And, most striking of all, Caleb’s eyes.
One was a clear, almost luminous blue.
The other was so dark it looked nearly black.
A nurse had smiled when she noticed them.
