The baby placed a small hand on Andrew’s chest, and suddenly Andrew was overwhelmed by sensations that were not his own: the slippery road, the screech of metal, terror followed by an unexpected calm.
And then, a voice he knew all too well.
“I couldn’t stay,” he seemed to be saying. “But he could.”
Andrew fell to his knees, breathless and trembling.
What could never be written.
No report ever acknowledged the conclusion reached behind closed doors, that something beyond physiology had been transmitted from mother to child, a final imprint shaped by love and urgency rather than logic.
Growing up with quiet certainty.
As he grew up, Elias spoke of things no one had told him, recognized moments linked only to Lillian’s memories, and felt the pain of others before it was even spoken aloud.
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