Chương 15
It hurt my lip again.
Pierce touched my elbow.
"Don't make decisions tonight that belong to tomorrow."
I nodded.
Then she left with Daniel and the security detail.
Senator Marlowe followed after speaking quietly with Vanessa.
Ethan remained.
That surprised me.
Vanessa noticed too.
"What are you still doing here?"
He stood beside an empty table with his hands in his pockets.
"I don't know."
"Good start."
"I didn't want to leave without saying something."
She folded her arms.
"To me or Claire?"
"Both."
"Pick one."
Ethan looked at me.
I was too tired for whatever he had rehearsed.
"Don't."
He stopped.
"If it's an apology, don't."
"It is."
"Then save it."
His face fell.
I continued.
"I don't mean forever."
He looked up.
"I mean tonight."
He nodded.
"Okay."
Vanessa looked at him.
"You can drive yourself home."
"I figured."
"And don't call me."
His face tightened.
"For how long?"
"I don't know."
"Can I text?"
"No."
"What if it's important?"
She stared at him.
He rubbed his forehead.
"That was stupid."
"Yes."
"I'm not doing great."
"No one is."
He nodded.
Then he looked at me again.
"Good."
"I should have done it years ago."
"Yes."
He flinched.
Part of me wanted to make it easier for him.
That old instinct disgusted me.
I was tired of helping guilty people survive their guilt.
Ethan left alone.
Vanessa watched the door close behind him.
"He was going to propose."
I looked at her.
She laughed without humor.
"Not tonight."
Her eyes filled.
"Next month."
"I'm sorry."
"Are you?"
The question came out sharp.
She regretted it immediately.
"I didn't mean that."
"It's okay."
"No."
She pressed her fingers beneath her eyes.
"It's not."
I shifted Lily on my shoulder.
Vanessa looked at her niece.
"She has your nose."
"Poor kid."
Vanessa smiled.
It lasted three seconds.
Then she looked at me.
"Can I meet her properly?"
"Not tonight."
She nodded.
"Right."
"Later."
Her eyes lifted.
"Later?"
"If you want."
"Of course I want."
The force of it startled both of us.
Vanessa looked away.
"I missed six years."
"Seven, almost."
"Great."
She inhaled shakily.
"Even better."
I could have told her none of that was her fault.
But some of it was.
She had believed convenient things because convenient things asked less of her.
So had I, once.
"I called you twice," I said.
"I know."
"You never called me."
She went still.
"I believed Mom."
"I know."
"That's not an excuse."
"No."
She nodded slowly.
"Okay."
I appreciated that she didn't invent one.
Behind us, my parents had begun arguing quietly near the coat check.
My mother wanted to leave together.
My father did not.
"You drove with me," she whispered.
"Don't be ridiculous."
"I need some space."
"From me?"
"Yes."
The simplicity silenced her.
Vanessa heard it.
She looked at me.
"I think they're done."
"I don't know."
"They've been miserable for years."
"So have lots of married people."
"Comforting."
My father walked toward us.
My mother stayed by the door.
He stopped several feet away.
For a moment, he looked only at Lily.
"She's beautiful."
I tightened my hold unconsciously.
He noticed.
Pain crossed his face.
He deserved some of it.
That did not make watching it pleasant.
"Don't."
He nodded.
"I won't."
We stood there awkwardly.
My father had spent most of my childhood filling rooms.
Now he seemed unable to find a place for his hands.
He finally put them in his pockets.
"I didn't know she was alive."
"Lily."
"Yes."
"I believe you."
His eyes closed briefly.
"That's somehow worse."
I understood what he meant.
Ignorance could still be guilt.
Especially when you had accepted it because asking harder questions might have required courage.
"Why didn't you look for me yourself?"
He opened his eyes.
"I did."
I stared.
"When?"
"After the first month."
My mother looked over from the door.
He glanced at her.
"Not through Diane."
My chest tightened.
"What did you do?"
"I hired an investigator."
My mother's face changed.
"You what?"
He ignored her.
"He found a bank withdrawal in Norfolk."
I remembered it.
Three hundred dollars from an ATM outside a grocery store.
It had been nearly everything I had.
My father continued.
"He found Mercy House."
I felt the room contract again.
"Did he find me?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"About six weeks after you left."
"Then you knew."
"No."
He looked ashamed.
"He told me you were there."
"But?"
"But he also told me you didn't want contact."
I stared at him.
"He spoke to me?"
"No."
"Then how would he know?"
My father looked toward my mother.
She went pale.
"He spoke to Weller."
I felt something cold move through me.
My mother whispered, "Charles."
My father didn't look at her.
"The investigator called the emergency family attorney listed in the trust records."
"Weller."
"Yes."
"And Weller told him I wanted no contact."
"Yes."
"Did you believe him?"
My father hesitated.
That was answer enough.
"Why?"
"Because Diane told me the same thing."
My mother stepped toward us.
"I thought it was what Claire wanted."
I looked at her.
"You went across the street and watched me with my baby."
She stopped.
"You knew exactly what I wanted."
She had no answer.
My father looked at me.
"I should have gone myself."
"Yes."
"I told myself respecting your wishes was the decent thing."
"You were relieved."
The sentence came out before I could soften it.
His face changed.
I knew I had hit the truth.
"Yes."
He swallowed.
"I was relieved."
I nodded.
There was something cleaner in that than all the excuses.
"You were angry with me."
"Yes."
"You thought I ruined your reputation."
"At the time."
"You chose not knowing."
His mouth tightened.
"Yes."
There it was again.
Chosen ignorance.
Maybe that was the family inheritance.
My mother's version involved paperwork.
May you like
My father's involved silence.
Mine had involved seven years of refusing to ask whether Vanessa truly hated me because believing she did was safer than risking another rejection.
