Her voice was low.
“She can’t know you’re here.”
The entire world seemed to shift beneath me.
“Who?”
The woman looked frightened.
Or maybe sad.
Then she whispered one word.
“Nora.”
I turned.
At first, I couldn’t find her.
There were too many people.
Then I looked through the café window.
A young woman wearing a black apron was carrying two plates toward a table.
Her hair was dark and pulled into a low ponytail.
She was thinner than the girl I remembered.
Older, obviously.
Her face had changed.
But not enough.
I knew her.
A mother knows.
My knees nearly gave out.
Michael caught my arm.
“What is it?”
I couldn’t speak.
The woman grabbed my other hand.
“Please don’t go in there.”
“That’s my daughter.”
“I know.”
“She’s alive.”
“Yes.”
Michael followed my gaze.
His entire body went rigid.
“Oh, my God.”
