“Mom, this is Noah.”
The second I saw Noah’s face, I froze.
He had gray-blue eyes.
Exactly like my younger brother Michael.
Then Noah turned his head, and I saw a small reddish birthmark just below his left ear.
Michael had the same birthmark.
My hands tightened around the serving spoon.
No.
It couldn’t be.
Then I noticed the necklace around Noah’s neck.
A small silver pendant.
Oval.
With a scratch near the bottom.
I hadn’t seen it in 21 years, but I knew it immediately.
My father had worn that pendant almost every day. After he died, my mother gave it to Michael.
Michael had been wearing it when he disappeared.
He was 24.
One Friday in October, my mother called me and asked if I’d heard from him. I hadn’t. Within days, we were calling his friends, hospitals, and anyone who might know where he was.
