Chương 14
Mara leaned forward between the front seats.
“You can ride with Uncle Peter.”
Peter called from his driveway, “Apparently I’m transportation now.”
Richard closed his eyes.
Then he walked toward Peter’s car.
Nobody spoke during the drive.
Mara turned off her game after three blocks.
Claire kept both hands on the wheel while Daniel watched dark storefronts pass beside him.
At one red light, he said, “I used to think Dad and I had the same hands.”
Claire glanced at his hands resting on his knees.
“You do.”
“No, I mean genetically.”
“I know what you mean.”
“He used to say Brennan hands were good for fixing things.”
The light changed.
Claire drove.
After a while Daniel said, “He couldn’t fix the dishwasher.”
“That dishwasher was older than Mara.”
“He blamed the pump for six years.”
“The pump probably deserved it.”
Daniel made a sound that almost became a laugh.
Mara leaned back in her seat.
“Grandpa fixed my bike.”
Daniel turned toward the window.
“Yes, he did.”
Evelyn was waiting when they arrived.
She had left the front door open.
Denise stood in the living room holding a yellow envelope.
Peter stopped behind Claire.
“Oh, hell.”
Denise looked at him.
“Nice to see you too.”
Her face was blotched from crying, but her voice was sharp enough to cut paper.
Evelyn sat on the couch with Frank’s old cardigan around her shoulders.
Daniel entered last.
He saw the envelope in Denise’s hand.
“Dad left you one.”
Denise laughed once.
“Apparently dying turned him into a postal service.”
“Did you read it?”
“Yes.”
Daniel waited.
Denise looked at Evelyn.
“Mom would probably prefer I hadn’t.”
Evelyn said nothing.
Richard remained near the front door.
When Evelyn noticed him, her fingers closed around the cardigan.
“You came.”
“You called Claire.”
“I didn’t call you.”
“No.”
Richard looked toward Daniel.
“He did.”
Daniel stayed standing.
“Who is my father?”
Evelyn’s mouth opened.
Denise interrupted.
“Before she answers, you need to see this.”
She held out the envelope.
Inside was a folded letter and a laboratory report.
Daniel took the report first.
Claire watched his eyes move across the page.
Then stop.
He looked at Denise.
“You tested?”
“Dad asked me last November.”
Peter stepped forward.
“You knew about all this?”
“I knew he wanted a DNA test.”
“And you didn’t tell us?”
Denise’s face tightened.
“He told me he needed it because of some hereditary medical question.”
Evelyn whispered, “Frank.”
Denise turned on her.
“Don’t.”
Daniel was still reading.
Claire moved beside him.
The report showed what Denise had already understood.
Frank Brennan was consistent with being Denise’s biological father.
Daniel lowered the paper.
“So it was only me.”
Evelyn covered her mouth.
Nobody helped her.
Mara quietly sat on the bottom stair.
Daniel looked at his mother.
“Who?”
Evelyn stared at Richard.
Richard’s face went rigid.
“No.”
“I’m not going to say you.”
“Then stop looking at me.”
She lowered her eyes.
“Michael.”
Daniel did not react.
Peter did.
“You said there were other possibilities.”
“There were.”
Richard stared at Evelyn.
“You told me there were.”
“I was lying.”
The room became very still.
Richard took one step toward her.
“Why?”
“Because if you believed you might be Daniel’s father, you wouldn’t tell Michael.”
Richard’s mouth parted.
Evelyn looked at Daniel.
“Michael wanted to stay.”
Daniel’s fingers tightened around Denise’s report.
“What?”
“He knew I was pregnant.”
Richard said, “You told me he didn’t.”
“I told everybody what I needed them to believe.”
There was no pride in it.
That made it worse.
Daniel sat in Frank’s chair.
The cushion gave beneath him with a familiar sigh.
Evelyn stared at the floor.
“Michael wanted me to go with him.”
“To Ohio?”
“Yes.”
“And you chose Dad.”
“I chose the life I thought I could keep.”
Daniel looked at her.
“Did Dad know?”
“Not then.”
“Did Michael know I was his?”
“Yes.”
The word landed without decoration.
Daniel bent forward and pressed the laboratory report between his palms.
Claire could see the paper trembling.
“The grocery store.”
Evelyn nodded.
“I lied.”
“Who did you see?”
“No one.”
Richard swore softly.
Evelyn flinched.
“I needed a reason for why Michael had suddenly become dangerous to talk about.”
Daniel stared at her.
“So you invented him coming back.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you were almost two, and Frank had started asking why Michael never wrote.”
Richard said, “He did write.”
Evelyn looked at him.
Daniel lifted his head.
“What?”
Richard swallowed.
“Twice that I know of.”
Evelyn’s voice sharpened.
“Not to Daniel.”
“To me.”
“And you answered?”
“The first time.”
Daniel stood.
“What did he ask?”
Richard looked miserable.
“Whether you were okay.”
“And?”
“I said you were.”
“That’s it?”
“He asked whether Frank was good to you.”
Daniel’s face folded again.
Richard continued quietly.
“I told him Frank carried you around the shop Christmas party for three hours because you wouldn’t let anybody else hold you.”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
Daniel stared at nothing.
“And Michael stayed away because of that?”
“No.”
Richard shook his head.
“He stayed away because Evelyn told him to.”
Daniel looked at his mother.
She nodded.
“I told him Frank was your father in every way that mattered and that coming back would destroy a family.”
“And he listened.”
“For a while.”
Peter frowned.
“For a while?”
Evelyn pulled the cardigan tighter.
“When Daniel was eight, Michael called me.”
Daniel’s voice was barely audible.
“You talked to him?”
“Yes.”
“What did he want?”
“To meet you.”
“Did Dad know?”
“No.”
“Did you let him?”
“No.”
Daniel turned away.
Claire watched him walk to the mantel, where Frank’s reading glasses still sat beside a ceramic bowl full of loose change.
He picked up the glasses.
For several seconds he only held them.
Then Denise said, “Dad found Michael anyway.”
Daniel turned.
Denise held out Frank’s letter.
“He wrote about it.”
Daniel did not take it.
“Read it.”
Denise looked down.
Her voice lost its edge.
“Dad said he found Michael because he wanted the truth before he died.”
Evelyn began crying without sound.
Denise continued.
“He said Michael told him everything.”
Daniel gripped the glasses.
“When?”
“January.”
Richard stared at her.
“That’s why Frank called me in February.”
Denise nodded.
Daniel looked at Evelyn.
“You said there was something Dad never knew.”
“There was.”
Her voice shook.
“He never knew Michael tried again when you were eighteen.”
Daniel went motionless.
Evelyn wiped her face with the cardigan sleeve.
“He came here.”
Richard whispered, “Jesus, Evelyn.”
“Frank was working.”
Daniel said, “I was at college.”
“I know.”
“What happened?”
“I told Michael you knew everything and wanted nothing to do with him.”
Daniel’s face emptied.
Claire felt Mara stand behind her.
“You told him I knew.”
“Yes.”
“You told him I rejected him.”
“Yes.”
Daniel set Frank’s glasses down with extraordinary care.
Then he walked out the front door.
Claire started after him.
Mara caught her hand.
“Let Dad go.”
Claire stopped.
Outside, Daniel sat on the curb.
Nobody followed him for several minutes.
A neighbor’s garage door opened across the street.
A man backed out in a minivan, noticed the cars crowding Evelyn’s driveway, and politely pretended not to notice anything else.
Peter went into the kitchen and returned with six glasses of water because he apparently had no idea what else to do.
Richard took one.
Denise took another.
Evelyn did not.
Finally Mara walked outside.
Claire watched through the window.
Mara sat beside Daniel on the curb.
Neither spoke.
After a minute, Daniel put his arm around her.
Ten minutes later they came back inside.
Daniel’s face was wet.
He made no attempt to hide it.
“Where is Michael?”
Richard answered.
“Tucson.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Married?”
“Divorced.”
“Children?”
Richard hesitated.
“One daughter.”
Daniel looked almost amused by the cruelty of receiving an entire half sister in two words.
“Does he know Dad died?”
“Yes.”
“Does he know I know?”
“No.”
Daniel took out his phone.
Evelyn stood abruptly.
“Daniel, please.”
He looked at her.
Whatever she saw stopped her.
“I’m not asking your permission.”
“I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do.”
Evelyn sat again.
Daniel turned to Richard.
“Give me his number.”
Richard recited it.
Daniel entered the digits but did not call.
Instead he saved the contact.
Claire looked at him.
“Not tonight?”
“No.”
Richard’s mouth twitched faintly.
Daniel noticed.
“Don’t look pleased.”
“I’m not.”
“You told me to wait.”
“I remember.”
“I’m waiting because Mara hasn’t eaten since six.”
Mara said, “I had crackers.”
Daniel nodded.
“Excellent parenting continues.”
Peter said, “There’s pizza.”
Denise stared at him.
“What pizza?”
“In the refrigerator.”
“That’s four days old.”
“I’ve survived worse.”
For the first time that night, Evelyn laughed.
It escaped her accidentally.
Everyone looked at her.
The laugh collapsed into another sob.
Nobody comforted her immediately.
Then Denise sat beside her.
Not close enough to forgive her.
Close enough that she was not alone.
Daniel called Michael the next morning.
Claire stayed in the kitchen while he stood on the back porch.
The conversation lasted eleven minutes.
When he came inside, he put his phone on the counter.
“Well?” Claire asked.
Daniel opened the refrigerator.
“He cried.”
Claire waited.
“So did I.”
He took out the milk, stared at it, and put it back.
“He asked if I wanted to meet.”
“Do you?”
Daniel closed the refrigerator.
“I don’t know.”
That answer survived three weeks.
Then Daniel bought a plane ticket to Arizona.
He went alone.
He came home two days later carrying nothing except the same overnight bag he had left with.
Mara met him at the airport and studied his face.
“Did you like him?”
Daniel considered it.
“Some of him.”
“Did he look like you?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Is he my grandpa?”
Daniel looked at Claire.
Then back at Mara.
“That’s not something DNA gets to decide by itself.”
Mara nodded as if this seemed obvious.
Christmas was smaller that year.
Frank’s chair remained empty.
Evelyn came late and left early.
Richard came for dessert after refusing twice.
Denise brought a pie nobody liked and became offended when everybody ate it anyway.
Peter gave Mara cash in an envelope because he had forgotten to shop.
Michael did not come.
He sent Daniel a card.
Daniel read it, put it in a drawer, and answered it two days later.
Nothing repaired itself quickly.
Evelyn and Daniel sometimes went weeks without speaking.
Then one of them would call about something stupid, a leaking faucet or a dentist appointment, and the larger conversation would resume around the edges.
In March, Daniel drove to the cemetery alone.
Frank’s stone had finally been set.
He stood there with his hands in his jacket pockets, reading the name he had carried all his life.
He had spent months wondering what biology had taken from him.
Standing there, he found himself thinking instead about a bicycle chain.
He had been nine.
Frank had crouched in the driveway with grease across his knuckles while Daniel complained that every other father in the neighborhood could fix a bike faster.
Frank had told him to go ask one of them.
Daniel had stayed.
So had Frank.
Daniel crouched and brushed a dead leaf from the base of the stone.
“You were my father,” he said.
There was no answer.
He had not expected one.
His phone buzzed.
A message from Michael asked whether Sunday still worked for a call.
Daniel typed yes.
Then another message appeared from Mara asking him to bring home cereal.
He smiled.
May you like
He stood, put the phone away, and rested his palm against Frank Brennan’s name for a moment.
Then Daniel went home to the family that was still there.
