“Where did you get this?” David asked, unable to hide the strain in his voice.
“She gave it to me,” the boy answered. “She said I should keep it safe.”
David closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again. “Lucinda is gone,” he said, each word heavy with meaning. “She died years ago.”
The boy nodded, his expression solemn. “I know. That is why I come here.”
A long silence settled between them, broken only by the rustling of leaves overhead. David removed his coat and gently wrapped it around the child’s shoulders, feeling how thin and cold he was. The boy stiffened at first, then relaxed slightly, as though unused to warmth being offered without condition.
“My name is David,” he said quietly. “What is yours?”
“Aaron,” the boy replied after a pause.
“How long have you been here, Aaron?”
The boy shrugged. “Since last night, I think.”
David helped him to his feet, supporting him carefully. “We cannot stay here. You are freezing.”
Aaron did not resist, but he did not ask questions either, simply following David to the car with the obedient wariness of someone accustomed to being overlooked. During the drive, David glanced at him repeatedly in the mirror, noticing the way Aaron sat very still, hands folded tightly in his lap, eyes fixed on the passing landscape.
When David asked where he came from, Aaron explained that he lived at a group home several miles away and that he had walked there after slipping out through a broken fence. He spoke without drama or complaint, as though escape and hunger were normal facts of life.
David checked them into a quiet hotel nearby, unsure of what else to do until he understood the situation better. Aaron sat in an armchair, still clutching the photograph, his posture small and guarded. David ordered food and placed it on the table, but the boy did not touch it.
“You can eat,” David said gently.
Aaron looked up uncertainly. “Am I allowed?”
The question pierced something deep inside David. He nodded firmly. “Yes. You are.”
The next morning they drove to the group home, a low brick building with peeling paint and a tired playground. A woman at the entrance recognized Aaron instantly and rushed forward with visible relief. She led them inside and introduced herself as Ms. Reynolds, the director of the home.