Andrew can never predict when Jacob will ask about his mother again. There’s no pattern that he can see. The ritual is always the same, though.
He comes into Andrew’s office, babbles for a little while, then falls silent, his eyes darting toward the drawer in which Andrew keeps the picture album until Andrew pulls it out. Then, they look at the pictures together - again - and eventually Jacob asks about her.
Sometimes it’s just one small question. Sometimes, a dozen, with no link between them that Andrew can see, fired so fast that he barely has time to think of his answers.
Today, it’s an easy question, one Andrew can answer. It’s not always so simple.
“What was her favorite flower?”
A pang chimes through Andrew as the image of Cara’s funeral resurfaces; at twilight, the flowers seemed colorless. Andrew’s entire life did, away from the tiny bundle he had entrusted to Julie’s care for a couple of hours.
“Sunflowers,” he says, choking a little on the word.
Jacob’s eyes widen in surprise, or maybe excitement. “Really? Sunflowers are pretty! They’re yellow!”
“They are. And yellow was her favorite color.”
“Just like me!”
Jacob practically bounces on Andrew’s lap, sheer happiness radiating from him. Andrew can only wonder why it never occurred to him to tell Jacob about this before.