Chapter 2: The Shoe on the Step
I didn't move. That was the problem.
The note was open in my right hand and my phone was still lit in my left, and I could feel Maya's hand tighten around my forearm. The petals were stuck to the edge of my shoe. A black patent dress shoe on light stone, surrounded by red and pink and white. I stared at it because I didn't know where else to look.
Behind us, someone coughed. Then the photographer said something quiet to his assistant, and I heard that low murmur that happens when a crowd doesn't know if it should keep watching.
Maya leaned in. Her veil brushed my shoulder.
"Ethan," she whispered. "Come here. Just come here for a second."
She didn't wait for me to answer. She pulled, gently but firmly, and my feet finally remembered how to work. We took three steps back, up toward the vestibule doorway, away from the center of the steps. The stone was warm through the soles of my shoes. The daylight was still hard and clear and it made everything feel exposed.
The older woman didn't follow us. She stayed where she was, about three feet down, her hands empty now, her coat hanging loose on her frame. Her short dark hair moved a little in the wind.
Maya positioned us just inside the shadow of the doorway. Close enough to still be seen, far enough that our voices wouldn't carry.
"What is that?" she asked, looking at the paper in my hand. Her voice was low and fast. "What did she give you?"
I looked down again. I had unfolded it on the steps but I hadn't really read it. I read it now.
It was off-white paper, folded twice, soft at the creases. In faded blue ink, two lines of handwriting. A name. Ethan Michael Cole. And a date. 04-14-1994.
My birth date. The name on my sealed birth record that I'd only seen once, when I was eighteen and my parents let me see the copy they'd kept in their safe. I had stared at that copy for a long time in their kitchen and then put it back and never talked about it again.
My breath caught.
"What?" Maya said, and she reached for my hand.
I folded the note back along its creases. My hands weren't steady.
"It's my name," I said. "The name before. And my birthday."
She stared at me, her eyes wide behind her veil, her mouth slightly open. She didn't say anything for a second. The photographer took half a step closer, then thought better of it.
Down on the steps, Mr. Henderson from the church facilities committee had appeared. He was wearing a gray suit and a headset and he was walking toward the woman with that purposeful walk people use when they're about to handle a problem. He said something to her I couldn't hear. She didn't answer. She just kept looking up at me.
"Ma'am, we need you to step aside," he said, louder this time, and he touched her elbow lightly.
Something in me snapped forward.
"Wait," I said. It came out louder than I meant it to.
Maya's head turned. Henderson paused and looked up at me.
I cleared my throat. "Don't — please don't move her."
Henderson's hand dropped from her arm. He looked between us, confused.
"Mr. Cole, we just thought — your guests —"
"I know," I said. "I know. I just need two minutes. Please. Just give us two minutes. She can stay right there."
The woman's eyes found mine. She hadn't spoken since that last word on the steps. She looked tired, and cold despite the warm daylight.
Henderson hesitated, then nodded once and stepped back toward the parking lot, but not far. He stayed within ten feet, arms crossed. The few guests closest to the steps pretended to check their phones.
Maya stepped closer to me, her shoulder against the doorframe. Her lace dress rustled.
"Ethan, who is she?" she whispered. Not accusing, just trying to keep her voice even. Her hand was still on my arm.
"I don't know," I said, and it was the truth. "She said —" I stopped. I didn't want to repeat it out loud with everyone right there.
I folded the note again and slipped it into the inner pocket of my tuxedo jacket. I pressed my palm flat against it for a second to keep it there. My phone had gone dark. I tucked it into my pants pocket without looking at the photo again.
"Two minutes," I said to Maya, quieter now, just for her. "Then we figure out what to do. Okay? I just need to ask her one thing without everyone listening."
Maya looked down at the steps where the woman stood, then back at me. Her lip trembled once and she pressed it still.
May you like
"Okay," she said. "But right here. We stay right here."
I nodded. The woman was still waiting on the edge of the steps, her worn dark coat hanging around her, the petals scattered around her shoes. She didn't try to come closer. She just waited to see if I would let her stay.
