Rocky had traced each digit of Natalie’s phone number on a pad of yellow Post-it notes until the number was etched through five layers. The desire to call the girl was unrelenting. Rocky had no choice but to call her again, yet she fought against it, digging in with her full weight, as if by doing so she could stop the force of the girl coming toward her. Natalie had probably regretted calling her in the first place and was long gone. Rocky punched in the numbers. This time Natalie answered on the first ring. “This is Rocky. I’d like to meet you and help you figure out if Bob was your father,” she blurted out before the girl could bolt like a wild horse. “I got your messages. I was afraid of what you’d say. Are you sure? I mean, I know I came out of nowhere and kind of surprised you,” said Natalie. “I have to transport a dog tomorrow. I’ll be in Portland. I can meet you at the Casco Bay ferry on Commercial Street.
