Helen walked toward him.
“Mark, I’m sorry.”
Mark didn’t look at his mother.
“You’re apologizing for seventeen years.”
At that moment, Luke began to cry.
Mark picked him up and stared at his face for a long time.
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Then he did something I hadn’t expected.
He took out his phone and dialed the number written at the bottom of Tyler’s letter.
Helen and I watched silently.
A few rings.
Then a young man answered.
“Hello?”
Mark’s lips trembled.
“Tyler?”
There was a long silence.
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“Yes.”
Mark closed his eyes.
“I’m Mark.”
Silence again.
Then the boy asked:
“Are you really my father?”
Tears rolled down Mark’s face.
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you ever look for me?”
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That question broke him.
“Because they told me you were dead.”
Tyler said nothing.
A few seconds later, we heard his shaky breathing through the phone.
