Chương 7
“Yes.”
“Then why me?”
“Because she said Victor was threatening to stop your move.”
My irritation sharpened instantly.
“How would she know that?”
“He called her last night.”
The answer hit harder than it should have.
Victor had told me Naomi was gone from his life with the kind of certainty people use when certainty is useful.
Apparently it had lasted less than a day.
“What did he say to her?”
“I only know what she told me.”
“Which was?”
“That he blamed her for losing his daughters.”
I laughed once.
It came out colder than I intended.
“That’s efficient.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
I walked to the window.
Across the street, a man was trying to fit a boxed floor lamp into the back seat of a compact car.
His wife kept rotating it while he insisted the angle was wrong.
Their problem looked wonderful.
“I still don’t understand your purpose.”
“I think Naomi is going to tell Victor the baby is definitely his.”
“Can she?”
“She can tell him anything.”
“That doesn’t make it true.”
“No, but people hear what they need.”
I rested my forehead against the cool window.
That part I understood.
“Do you have proof you were with her during the relevant time?”
“Messages.”
“Anything else?”
“Receipts, pictures, a hotel reservation.”
The specificity made me uncomfortable.
“You kept all that?”
“I didn’t keep it for this.”
“Why did you keep it?”
He was silent.
When he answered, his voice had changed.
“My wife found out about Naomi.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course there was a wife.
Somewhere beneath all the tangled explanations was another woman who had probably once stood in a kitchen believing the person she married would eventually tell her the truth.
“You’re married.”
“Separated now.”
“Because of Naomi?”
“Because of me.”
That was the first thing Daniel said that made me trust him even slightly.
Not because it absolved him.
Because it did not.
“My wife found messages in March.”
“What’s her name?”
“Rachel.”
“Does Rachel know there might be a baby?”
“Yes.”
My grip tightened on the phone.
“And how is she handling that?”
“Badly.”
At least he did not soften it.
“She told me if the child is mine, I have a responsibility to know.”
“That sounds reasonable.”
“She also told me never to use responsibility as a way to crawl back into her life.”
I almost smiled.
“I like Rachel.”
“You probably would.”
His voice held something painful and almost amused.
I looked at the half-packed apartment.
“Daniel, I’m leaving the country tomorrow.”
“I know.”
“I have two daughters who have spent months being treated like an inconvenient first draft of the family their father wanted.”
He said nothing.
“I am not going to become part of some investigation into Naomi’s pregnancy.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
“You contacted me before Victor.”
“Yes.”
“That makes me part of it.”
“You’re right.”
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then he said, “I thought you should know she’s still speaking to him.”
My jaw tightened.
“Why?”
“Because she told me she could fix everything if she convinced Victor the dates were wrong.”
That was the first thing that frightened me.
Not because I cared whether Victor believed Naomi.
Because Victor was already looking for a reason to stop us from leaving.
If Naomi restored his hope, perhaps he would lose interest in challenging the move.
If she failed, he might cling harder to the daughters he had treated as secondary.
Neither possibility should have mattered.
Legally, the agreement existed.
Emotionally, nothing was that clean.
“What exactly did she say about me?”
I asked.
Daniel hesitated.
“She said Victor would never have left you if she hadn’t gotten pregnant.”
I closed my eyes.
“That’s different from what you said earlier.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t know how much you knew.”
“So you edited it.”
“Yes.”
“Don’t do that again.”
“I won’t.”
“What else?”
“She said the son made everything simple.”
The words landed with such familiar ugliness that I stopped breathing for a second.
Daniel continued.
“She said his family wanted a boy so badly that once they knew, nobody would question anything.”
I remembered Miriam’s flowers.
Walter’s investment account.
Samantha’s tight smile at the mediator’s office.
The family life Victor always wanted.
A child had been turned into proof before he was even born.
“Did Naomi know the baby might be yours before yesterday?”
“I think so.”
“That isn’t proof.”
“No.”
“Why do you think so?”
“Because three weeks ago she asked my blood type.”
I turned from the window.
“What?”
“She said it was for a medical form.”
“And you answered?”
“Yes.”
“What type?”
“O negative.”
I knew enough to know that blood type alone would not settle paternity.
But the question itself mattered.
“Did you ask why?”
“I did.”
“She said she was updating an emergency contact record.”
“That makes no sense.”
“I know.”
“Did it make sense then?”
“No.”
“And you let it go?”
“Yes.”
There it was.
Human beings did not miss warning signs because warning signs were invisible.
Often they missed them because seeing them required an action they did not want to take.
“When are you planning to contact Victor?”
“Today.”
My stomach tightened.
“Don’t do it while he has the girls.”
“I didn’t know he had them.”
“He does until seven.”
“I can wait.”
“Wait longer.”
“How long?”
“Until they are home.”
“Okay.”
His immediate agreement irritated me.
“Do not show up anywhere.”
“I won’t.”
“Do not call him repeatedly.”
“I won’t.”
“And do not mention that you spoke to me unless you have to.”
“Understood.”
I almost ended the call.
Then I stopped.
“Daniel.”
“Yes?”
“If the baby is yours, what are you going to do?”
He took a long time to answer.
“I don’t know.”
That answer reassured me more than certainty would have.
“I know what Rachel thinks I should do.”
May you like
“What?”
“Take the test when it can be done appropriately, and if I’m the father, act like one.”
