Next, Clara checked the albums for Margaret's vacations, holidays, and anniversaries, especially from eight to nine years ago, and as she suspected, none showed her pregnant. Not a single photo with a baby bump. Not one.
Her hands flew to her mouth as the truth hit with full force.
"Oh my God!" she whispered, eyes burning. "He's my son!"
How did I miss this? A horrifying clarity washed through her. Her son, her baby, her cade had been here all along while she longed for him day and night.
He lived with her in this house!
Her mind rapidly replayed every moment she'd spent with Axiel: his clumsy hugs, the way he held her hand at the zoo, the soft way he looked at her when he asked for help with his shoelaces.
He was Cade.
Her Cade.
Clara stumbled backward until her back hit the wall, the album sliding from her fingers to the floor. Tears blurred her vision as she whispered through shaking lips.
"My baby."
"Axiel."
Sweet little Axiel was her missing son. He was Cade.
***
