“He left this on purpose. It’s his way of saying he’s alive.”
For the first time in months, my mother cried tears of hope instead of grief. Michael took my hand gently.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “We all thought the worst. We thought you betrayed us.”
I shook my head.
“No. I was trying to protect you all.”
Mom sobbed quietly. “My boy… he’s alive.
He’s really alive.”
I looked out the window at the American flag waving in the wind. And for the first time in months…
I felt the same thing my family felt:
Hope. Evan wasn’t gone.
He was close. And he had reached out to me
the only way he could without being seen.
