But Sarah had struggled. Ethan’s job kept him away for weeks at a time, leaving her to handle the girls, the house, and the endless small-town gossip alone. He’d tried to make it up to her, buying a sleek new Chevy Equinox last year, thinking it would ease her days. She’d just shaken her head, her voice quiet but sharp.
- “I don’t need a fancy car, Ethan,” she’d said, standing in their kitchen, dishes piled in the sink. “I need you here. The girls need their dad.”
He’d promised to cut back, to take shorter routes, but the bills didn’t stop, and the company always had another load waiting. When Sarah found out she was pregnant with their third, she’d sat him down at the dining table, her hands trembling.
- “I can’t do this again, Ethan,” she’d said. “I’m drowning. Two kids is enough.”
- “But a boy, Sarah,” he’d replied, his eyes lighting up. “A son. Someone to carry on the family name. We can make it work.”
She’d looked away, tears brimming, but Ethan had been relentless. He’d painted a picture of backyard barbecues, fishing trips, teaching their son to drive a stick shift. Sarah had relented, not because she wanted to, but because she loved him. Now, as Ethan pulled into their driveway, the reality hit him like a freight train. His son was here, sleeping in the car seat, but Sarah was gone. He’d gotten what he wanted, and it had cost him everything.
Inside, the house felt hollow. The girls were at a neighbor’s, spared the hospital’s grim reality for now. Ethan carried the baby to the nursery, a room Sarah had decorated with pale blue walls and a mobile of tiny airplanes. He laid the boy in the crib, watching his tiny chest rise and fall. What now? Trucking was out of the question with three kids, especially a newborn. He’d have to find local work, maybe at the auto shop in town. But first, there was Sarah’s funeral to plan. She deserved a service as warm and beautiful as she’d been, and Ethan wouldn’t let his grief stop him from giving her that.
The next morning, Lisa Harper was at the house before Ethan could even brew coffee. Lisa, Sarah’s best friend since high school, had always been a fixture in their lives, her loud laugh and endless stories filling their kitchen. Ethan had never warmed to her. Single, childless, and always lingering, Lisa irritated him. He’d grumbled to Sarah more than once, asking her to keep Lisa away when he was home from a haul. Sarah would just roll her eyes, saying Lisa was family. Now, Ethan saw her in a new light. When the hospital called with the news, Lisa had been the first to show up, no questions asked. She’d taken Mia and Ava to her apartment, shielding them from the chaos while Ethan sat numbly in the waiting room.
- “I’ve got the girls,” Lisa said now, standing in the living room, her curly hair pulled into a messy bun. “They’re okay, just confused. I’ll bring them back later. How’s the little guy?”
- “Hungry,” Ethan admitted, glancing at the nursery. “I… I didn’t think to get formula or anything.”
Lisa’s face softened. She held up a grocery bag.
- “Got you covered. Bottles, formula, diapers—the works. Picked it up last night.”
Ethan exhaled, relief mixing with his exhaustion.
- “Thanks, Lisa. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
She waved him off, already heading to the kitchen to prepare a bottle. The baby’s cries grew louder, sharp and insistent. Ethan followed, watching as Lisa expertly mixed formula, her hands steady despite the early hour. She unwrapped the blanket, revealing a pale, blond-haired infant with a faint birthmark on his left cheek, shaped like a teardrop.
- “Look at this little angel,” Lisa cooed, cradling the baby. “So fair! Doesn’t look much like you or Sarah, huh? What’s this on his cheek? Dirt?”
She rubbed at the mark, frowning. Ethan leaned in, his brow furrowing. The baby’s light skin and wispy hair were a stark contrast to his own dark hair and tanned complexion, or Sarah’s chestnut curls. For a moment, a wild thought crossed his mind—had the hospital mixed up the babies? But he pushed it aside.
- “Stop scrubbing,” he said, his voice sharper than intended. “It’s a birthmark, not dirt. You’ll hurt him.”
Lisa froze, then nodded, her cheeks flushing.
- “Right, sorry. He’s just so… different. Anyway, you got a name yet?”
- “Noah,” Ethan said, the name slipping out. He and Sarah had tossed it around during her pregnancy, inspired by her love of old Bible stories.
- “Noah,” Lisa repeated, smiling. “Fits him. Don’t worry about Noah today, Ethan. I’ll handle him and the girls. You focus on… what’s next.”
Ethan nodded, his throat tight.
- “I’m heading to Willow Creek Funeral Home. Gotta set up Sarah’s service, the reception after.”
- “There’s a catering place by the highway, does good food cheap,” Lisa offered.
Ethan’s jaw clenched.
- “No. Sarah gets the best. No cutting corners.”
- “I get it,” Lisa said quickly. “But with three kids, money’s gonna be tight.”
- “I’ve got savings,” Ethan shot back. “We’ll manage.”
He wasn’t bluffing. Years of long hauls had built a nest egg—enough for the house, the Equinox, and a cushion for emergencies. Ethan had always dreamed of leaving trucking behind, opening a mechanic shop where he could tinker with engines and be home for dinner. He’d imagined Sarah by his side, the kids running through the shop, grease smudged on their cheeks. That future was gone now, but the money was still there, and he’d use it to honor Sarah.
The days that followed were a fog of grief and duty. Sarah’s funeral was held at Willow Creek Baptist Church, the pews filled with townsfolk who’d known her as the cheerful mom at school pickups or the woman who always bought extra cookies at the PTA bake sale. Ethan stood tall, shaking hands, accepting casseroles and condolences, while Mia and Ava clung to his legs, their eyes red and confused. Noah stayed with Lisa, too young to witness the sorrow. Ethan kept his emotions locked tight, his heart bound by an invisible chain. If he let go, he’d collapse, and his kids needed him standing.