“Noah always answered.”
“He recognized the sound.”
“Did he remember you doing it?”
“No.”
“But he knew it meant you.”
“Yes.”
Caleb smiled.
“That seems more important than a refrigerator light.”
I wanted to believe him.
Before I could answer, a whistle came from the workshop.
Imperfect because Noah had only one hand.
One short, breathless note.
A second.
Then a longer one that broke at the end.
I was out of the office before thought caught up.
Noah sat beside his bench.
He looked almost surprised by how quickly I appeared.
Caleb laughed behind me.
Noah’s mouth curved.
“It works.”
I stopped in front of him.
“You called.”
“And you came.”
“Always.”
His eye held mine.
Something passed between us that neither Caleb nor Owen acknowledged.
At nine, Maeve arrived with a physical therapist named Joel.
Noah’s good mood vanished the moment he saw the exercise bag.
“No.”
Joel smiled. “That is not how appointments work.”
