His father, Frank.
Trevor rarely discussed him except to say:
“He abandoned my mother before I was born.”
I expected Frank to ignore my call.
He answered.
I told him everything.
After a long silence, he asked for my address.
PART 2
Frank arrived forty minutes later carrying an old duffel bag.
He remained on the porch until I invited him inside.
His eyes moved from my exhausted face to the twins sleeping behind me.
“You shouldn’t be standing for so long,” he said.
It was the first practical thing anyone had said to me all day.
My mother watched him cautiously.
Frank noticed.
“I understand,” he told her. “I’m not asking anyone to trust me.”
Then he placed his bag beside the wall.
“What needs to be done?”
No one had asked me that question in weeks.
“The bottles need sterilizing.”
“Show me.”
Within an hour, Frank had cleaned the bottles, learned how to operate the warmer, and finished assembling the second bassinet Trevor had abandoned halfway through.
