Free Chasing the Night by Iris Johansen Page B

you see that the eyes are slightly more elongated and less rounded? The interorbital distance is almost established. The cranium had expanded to accommodate the growing brain. Look at the teeth. The maxilla and mandible have become larger and widened to allow room for his deciduous teeth.”
    “Deciduous?”
    “Baby teeth. The changes are subtle but important.”
    “He already looks different. Beautiful…but different.”
    “Your Luke was a baby. That doesn’t last long.”
    “No.”
    Eve saved the transition and brought up the second one. “Luke, age five.”
    “Dear God.”
    “He doesn’t have a button nose any longer, the bridge of the nose rises up and lifts some of the excess skin from the medial corners of the eyes. His chin has taken shape. His face continues to elongate, the nose lengthens. The growth pattern of the hair should have become established. I kept it fine and silky and as dark as yours. I figured that there was a good chance that would be a constant.”
    “Constant?” She cleared her throat. “There doesn’t seem to be much else that’s constant in this progression. I knew in my mind that he would change, but it’s still coming as a shock.”
    “Do you want me to stop? You said you wanted to see all the transitions.”
    “I did. I do. But it’s not school photos. It hurts.” She swallowed. “Go ahead.”
    She brought up the next progression. “One more. Luke, age eight. The forehead has become less prominent and bulbous-looking. But the principal changes involve the nose. The bridge continues to rise, and the nostril size and nose width increase a little. The forms of the lower cartilages of the nose become apparent, and the tip takes shape. He now has a mixture of permanent and baby teeth, and his mouth has widened to accept them.” She turned to Catherine. “That’s all I have right now. I’ll do one transition at age nine and the final one at eleven.”
    Catherine didn’t answer, still staring at the photo on the screen.
    “Catherine?”
    “I’ve missed so much.”
    “So has he.”
    She nodded. “He won’t have any memory of me, will he?”
    “Perhaps. Some memories are said to go back to the womb.”
    “I don’t give a damn about all that womb business. I just want him to remember that I love him. What could he think? One moment I was there, and the next I’d just disappeared. He wouldn’t understand.” Her voice was hoarse. “Sometimes I have nightmares of Luke running in the dark searching for me. I keep calling him, but he doesn’t hear me.”
    Eve could feel her own throat tighten with pain at the words. It came close to her own experience with her own loss. She’d had dreams of Bonnie, lost, frightened, when her daughter had first been taken. She would wake up sobbing, reaching out desperately for her little girl, who would never return. “I can’t tell you what Luke will remember. I only know that if you love someone enough, it goes on forever. Maybe he loved you that much, Catherine.”
    Catherine didn’t answer for a moment. “Maybe. He was only two, just a baby. But maybe.” She lifted her shoulders as if shrugging off a weight. “We have to get back to work.” She stood up and took her stool back to her former position across the worktable. “When will you be finished?”
    “Tomorrow, if all goes well.” She finished her coffee and set the cup on the worktable. “And I believe it’s going well. I feel as if I’m beginning to know your Luke.”
    “Better than I do. He’s almost a stranger.”
    “This has shaken you.” Eve asked quietly, “Do you still want me to save those progressions for you?”
    “Of course. I want you to print all of them out and let me look at them and get used to each one. Yes, it hurts. But maybe it won’t after a little while. I don’t think that it will.” She looked at Eve. “I had a dream, a memory. You’re bringing that memory to life. It’s like…birth.”
    “A midwife, I’m not,” Eve said.