Chương 6
Mara stared at the sentence.
She had no memory of being held by him.
No image.
No sound.
Nothing.
Only a blank space where a father should have been.
She kept reading.
Her mother had written that Thomas left after a fight.
Not because he wanted to leave Mara.
Because he believed he had no choice.
Mara frowned.
That sentence made no sense.
A person did not disappear for seventeen years because of a fight.
There had to be more.
And then she found the part that made her sit back.
Thomas had tried to come back.
Several times.
The words blurred for a moment.
She blinked and forced herself to continue.
Her mother wrote that after Thomas left, Mara’s grandfather, Robert, had stepped in.
Robert was the person Mara had always called the man who raised her.
Her grandfather.
Her protector.
The person who taught her how to ride a bicycle and helped her with homework.
The person who sat beside her at school concerts when she searched the crowd for someone who looked like her.
Mara’s hands went cold.
Because the notebook did not describe Robert as a protector.
It described him as someone who believed he knew what was best.
Someone who made decisions for everyone around him.
Someone who convinced her mother that keeping Thomas away was necessary.
Mara closed the notebook.
She could not breathe properly.
The room had become too small.
She stood quickly and almost dropped the pages.
“No.”
The word came out before she knew she had spoken.
She walked to the kitchen.
Then back.
Then to the front door.
She did not know where she was going.
She only knew she could not stay still.
Her entire childhood had been built around a story that suddenly had missing pieces.
And the missing pieces were not accidents.
They were choices.
The next morning, Mara called the number written in the notebook.
It was an old number.
One her mother had written beside Thomas’s name.
She expected it not to work.
She expected a disconnected message.
Instead, after four rings, someone answered.
“Hello?”
Mara stopped.
The voice was older than the one in her memories.
But something about it was familiar.
The pause before speaking.
The slight hesitation.
The way the person seemed to be waiting for something unpleasant.
“Is this Thomas Whitfield?”
The silence on the other end lasted several seconds.
“Yes.”
Mara gripped the phone.
“This is Mara.”
Another silence.
Not confusion.
Recognition.
“Oh.”
The single word carried too much.
Mara closed her eyes.
“You know who I am.”
“Yes.”
“Did you know I would call?”
“No.”
The answer came quietly.
“I hoped you would.”
She sat down at the kitchen table.
The same table where Eli had asked questions.
The same table where Noah had told her she changed words to make them hurt less.
“Why didn’t you?”
Thomas exhaled.
The sound was small.
Tired.
“I tried.”
“My mother said you left.”
“I know.”
“Is that all you have to say?”
“No.”
His voice changed.
Not louder.
Just heavier.
“I have spent twenty years trying to figure out what I could say that would not sound like an excuse.”
Mara looked at the notebook.
Twenty years.
The number felt impossible.
“You could have called.”
“I did.”
“My mother said you didn’t.”
“I know what she said.”
Mara stood.
The anger arrived so quickly she almost welcomed it.
“You know?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Because she told me.”
The room went still.
“What?”
Thomas took a breath.
“Your mother called me the week after I left.”
Mara said nothing.
“She told me if I came back, she would make sure you hated me.”
Mara felt the phone become heavier.
“That doesn’t sound like my mother.”
“No.”
Thomas’s voice softened.
“It probably doesn’t.”
She hated that answer.
Because it was not an accusation.
It was not revenge.
It sounded like someone remembering a person they had loved even after being hurt by them.
“Why?”
Thomas was quiet.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know why my mother kept you away from me?”
“No.”
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
The calmness in his voice frustrated her.
“You don’t understand.”
“I do.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I know what it feels like to lose someone and not understand why.”
Mara closed her eyes.
She wanted him to be simple.
She wanted him to be the villain or the victim.
Something easy.
Something she could place in a category.
But he sounded like a person.
And that was harder.
“Where are you?”
“In Pennsylvania.”
Mara looked around the kitchen.
At the cabinets.
At the worn counters.
At the life she had built.
“Do you have another family?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
“Why?”
“I never wanted to replace the one I lost.”
She sat down again.
Neither of them spoke for a while.
The silence was not comfortable.
But it was honest.
“I have children,” Mara said finally.
“I know.”
Her heart stopped.
“What?”
“I saw your name in an article years ago.”
“What article?”
“About the nursing home where you work.”
Mara felt a chill.
“You were watching me?”
“No.”
The answer came quickly.
“I found it once.”
“That’s still watching.”
“Yes.”
She appreciated that he did not argue.
“I was wrong.”
She looked toward the stairs.
“My sons know now.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Why?”
“Because everyone says sorry after things are already broken.”
Thomas was quiet.
Then he said, “You’re right.”
The agreement hurt more than an argument would have.
Mara looked at the notebook.
At her mother’s handwriting.
At the years of missing information.
“I don’t know what to believe.”
“You shouldn’t.”
She frowned.
“What?”
“You shouldn’t believe me because I’m your father.”
The words surprised her.
“You should ask questions.”
She sat quietly.
“Your mother was not the only person who made mistakes.”
Mara tightened her grip on the phone.
“What does that mean?”
Thomas did not answer immediately.
May you like
When he finally spoke, his voice was lower.
“It means there are things about that time you don’t know.”
