Chương 2
Now he was doing something she had never seen before.
He looked scared.
“The woman in the picture,” Claire said.
“Nora.”
The name came easily.
Too easily.
Claire sat down.
Ethan remained standing.
“Nora what?”
“Reyes.”
“How long?”
“We were together in college.”
Claire waited.
He rubbed his palms once against his tuxedo pants.
“About a year.”
“And she was pregnant.”
“Yes.”
The room tilted without moving.
Claire looked at the narrow window above the sink.
Outside, someone’s car alarm chirped twice.
She brought her attention back to him.
“You told me there had never been anybody serious before Natalie.”
“Nora and I were twenty-two.”
“That wasn’t what I said.”
“I know.”
“You told me you never got anybody pregnant.”
He shut his eyes for half a second.
Claire stood.
“Oh my God.”
“Claire, it wasn’t—”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence with complicated.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“What were you going to say?”
He had no answer.
There was a knock.
Neither of them moved.
The door opened anyway.
Claire’s mother entered first, still clutching the wedding program. Behind her came Father Michael and a gray-haired woman Claire had never seen.
The little girl stood beside the woman.
Her backpack was zipped now, although the broken seam bulged open.
The older woman’s hand rested lightly against the girl’s shoulder.
Claire’s mother looked at Ethan.
“What is happening?”
The gray-haired woman answered.
“My granddaughter came here for an answer.”
Her voice was controlled, but anger sat inside it like heat under a closed lid.
Ethan looked at the girl.
“Is your mother—”
“Dead?” the woman said. “Yes.”
The little girl’s mouth tightened.
The woman glanced down at her.
“Sorry, honey.”
The girl shrugged.
It was such a small, adult gesture that Claire suddenly felt sick.
She looked at the backpack under the child’s arm.
At the scuff mark her shoe had left across one pocket.
“What’s your name?” Claire asked.
The girl looked at her for the first time since the kick.
“Mia.”
“Mia what?”
“Mia Reyes.”
Claire’s mother took a breath behind her.
The grandmother said, “I’m Elena Reyes.”
Ethan leaned against the edge of a table.
“When did Nora die?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
Elena’s expression did not change.
“You don’t get to start there.”
Father Michael quietly closed the door.
Outside, voices had begun again.
Not normal voices.
Whispers multiplying.
Claire could imagine the messages already moving through the church. No one needed facts when they had seen enough to invent them.
She should have cared.
An hour earlier, she had cared deeply about whether the aisle candles were symmetrical.
Now the entire wedding could have burned down and she might have watched.
Ethan looked toward Mia.
“How old are you?”
“Eight.”
“When’s your birthday?”
Elena’s jaw hardened.
“No.”
Ethan looked at her.
“I’m just asking.”
“You’re asking a child to provide you with arithmetic so you can decide whether you have to take this seriously.”
“That isn’t what I’m doing.”
“It is exactly what you’re doing.”
Mia spoke without looking at anyone.
“April seventeenth.”
Ethan’s shoulders dropped slightly.
Claire noticed.
So did Elena.
Ethan stared at the floor.
Nora had been pregnant nine years ago.
April seventeenth fit.
Claire took off her veil.
Her hands were calmer now.
She folded it once and placed it over the back of the chair.
The tiara remained pinned in her hair, suddenly ridiculous.
“Did Nora tell you she was pregnant?” Claire asked.
Ethan nodded.
“When?”
“Late August. Maybe early September.”
“And what did you do?”
He looked at Elena before answering.
“I asked if it was mine.”
Mia’s eyes lifted.
Claire wished she had sent the child out before asking.
Then she wondered how many rooms Mia had already been sent out of while adults discussed her life.
“What did she say?” Claire asked.
“That she thought it was.”
“Thought?”
“That’s what she said.”
Elena gave a short, humorless laugh.
“Convenient.”
“I’m telling you what I remember.”
“You’re telling us what helps you.”
Ethan’s voice sharpened.
“I haven’t had ten minutes to process this.”
Elena stepped toward him.
“My daughter had nine years.”
The room went quiet.
Even Ethan had nothing for that.
Father Michael rubbed his thumb along the edge of his collar.
“We need to make a decision about the guests.”
Claire almost laughed.
The sentence belonged to another universe.
Her mother looked at her carefully.
“Claire.”
The wedding.
Two hundred guests.
Caterers.
Flowers.
A string quartet.
Her college roommate who had flown from Seattle while thirty-six weeks pregnant.
Ethan’s clients.
Her mother’s friends.
His father’s business associates.
A photographer who had cost more than Claire’s first car.
Everyone waiting.
Claire looked at Ethan.
He seemed to understand the question.
“I can explain.”
“Can you?”
“Yes.”
“Then explain.”
He glanced at Mia.
Claire followed his eyes.
“Maybe she should—”
“No,” Mia said.
Her voice was soft.
Everyone heard her.
“I came to hear it.”
Elena started to speak.
Mia touched her grandmother’s wrist.
“Please.”
Ethan looked as though he would have preferred a jury.
He loosened his bow tie.
“Nora and I were together my senior year. After graduation, I moved back home. She stayed in Pittsburgh. We were already having problems. Distance. Money. My father hated that I was considering turning down the job he’d arranged for me.”
Claire said nothing.
“Nora called and told me she was pregnant. We fought. I asked if she was sure. She got angry.”
“Reasonable,” Elena said.
“I know.”
“No, you know now.”
Ethan pressed his lips together.
“She said she didn’t want my father’s money involved. She wanted to know whether I wanted to be involved.”
Mia watched him.
“What did you say?”
Ethan looked at her.
For the first time that morning, he seemed to forget everyone else.
“I said I needed time.”
“How much?”
He swallowed.
“I don’t know.”
Mia considered that.
“Mom said you always needed time.”
Elena’s face changed.
Only slightly.
May you like
Enough for Claire to see that the sentence had come from Nora.
Ethan saw it too.
