Chương 3
“She wouldn’t speak to me after the argument.”
“What argument?”
Patricia glanced at my mother.
My mother said, “Patricia.”
“No.”
Patricia’s voice was suddenly firm.
“You had five years to tell him your version.”
She looked at me.
“Samantha came here because she didn’t have your Vancouver address.”
“She had my number.”
“She said your number had changed.”
I reached automatically for my pocket, although the phone I carried now had nothing to do with the one I owned then.
My mother interrupted.
“You changed carriers when you moved.”
“I kept the number for weeks.”
“She called.”
The words came from Chloe.
Every head in the room turned toward her.
Chloe’s face went rigid.
I walked toward her.
“What did you just say?”
She swallowed.
“I said she called.”
“How would you know?”
She looked at my mother.
That was answer enough.
Something cold replaced the panic in my chest.
“You knew each other five years ago.”
“No.”
“Stop lying to me.”
“I didn’t know her.”
“You knew about her.”
Chloe’s eyes filled, but the tears did not fall.
“I knew who she was.”
I stared at her.
Five years earlier, Chloe had been a marketing consultant who occasionally worked with the Canadian branch of the company that hired me.
We had met eight months after I moved to Vancouver.
At least that was the story I had believed.
“When did you first hear Samantha’s name?”
Chloe lowered her phone.
“Before we met.”
“How long before?”
“Ethan, it wasn’t like that.”
“How long?”
“Maybe two months.”
I laughed again, quieter this time.
“So while I was still getting settled in Vancouver, you already knew who my ex-wife was.”
“Yes.”
“From whom?”
My mother stood.
“That was me.”
Patricia whispered, “Jesus, Elaine.”
My mother ignored her.
“I called the Vancouver office.”
I stared at her.
“Why?”
“To make sure you were okay.”
“You called my employer?”
“I called someone I knew.”
“Who?”
“Martin Blake.”
The name pulled a half-forgotten thread loose.
Martin had been the regional director who arranged my transfer.
He had retired two years after I arrived.
My mother had met him once at a company Christmas dinner in Chicago.
“You called Martin about my divorce?”
“I told him you were going through a difficult time.”
“You had no right.”
“I was your mother.”
“You’re saying that like it gives you diplomatic immunity.”
Patricia looked away, perhaps to hide a smile that appeared at exactly the wrong moment.
My mother heard it anyway.
“This is amusing to you?”
“No, Elaine.”
Patricia rubbed her temple.
“It’s just very you.”
I turned back to Chloe.
“Where do you fit into this?”
She leaned against the doorframe.
“Martin asked me to help with your relocation paperwork because I was doing contract work for the office.”
“That’s not how you told me we met.”
“We did meet at the fundraiser.”
“But you knew who I was before that.”
“Yes.”
“And you knew I was divorced.”
“Yes.”
“And you knew Samantha was pregnant.”
Her silence lasted too long.
My stomach turned.
“Did you know before I did?”
“I didn’t know if the baby was yours.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“Yes.”
I walked out of the kitchen.
My mother called after me.
I kept going until I reached the front porch.
The morning air was cool, and somebody across the street was blowing leaves from a driveway even though there were barely enough leaves to justify the noise.
I sat on the top step.
My hands shook.
Five years of my life rearranged themselves without permission.
Vancouver had always been the clean break.
The city where nobody knew what my marriage had become.
The place where I could go to work, buy groceries, run along the seawall, and be simply Ethan instead of the man whose wife had packed his clothes into black garbage bags during their last fight.
Even meeting Chloe had felt safely unrelated to Chicago.
Now Chicago had apparently been waiting inside Vancouver before I arrived.
The screen door opened behind me.
Patricia came outside.
She handed me a mug.
“I said no coffee.”
“You say lots of things when you’re angry.”
I took it.
She sat beside me.
For a minute, we watched the neighbor chase three leaves down his driveway with an industrial blower.
“He’s losing that war,” Patricia said.
“Patricia.”
“I know.”
She folded her hands.
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know Mom contacted people in Vancouver?”
“No.”
“Did you know Chloe knew?”
“No.”
“Did you know what happened to the baby?”
She hesitated.
“Not exactly.”
I looked at her.
“That’s an interesting phrase.”
“Samantha stopped answering my calls.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t stop your mother.”
The answer contained no defense.
I waited.
Patricia stared into the street.
“When Samantha came here, she was about ten weeks pregnant.”
My grip tightened around the mug.
“She had an ultrasound picture in her purse.”
A strange image formed of Samantha standing in this house soaked from rain, carrying a picture I had never seen.
“She wanted your address.”
“Yes.”
“And Mom refused.”
“At first.”
“At first?”
“Your mother told her the divorce was done, that you were rebuilding your life, and that Samantha had already hurt you enough.”
“What did Samantha say?”
“That the baby changed things.”
Patricia looked at me.
“She said you had a right to decide for yourself.”
I closed my eyes.
That sounded like Samantha.
Even during our worst fights, she had despised anyone making decisions on another person’s behalf.
“What did Mom do?”
“She said she didn’t believe the baby was yours.”
I opened my eyes.
“Why?”
“She said the timing didn’t make sense.”
“The timing made perfect sense.”
“I know that now.”
“You knew it then.”
Patricia said nothing.
I set the mug beside my shoe.
“What else?”
“Samantha got angry.”
“Good.”
“She said she could prove it eventually.”
“Eventually?”
“DNA.”
My throat tightened.
Patricia continued.
“Then your mother told her something I didn’t understand at the time.”
May you like
“What?”
“She told Samantha that you were already seeing someone.”
