Chương 4
I stared at her.
“That’s impossible.”
“I know.”
“I hadn’t even met Chloe.”
Patricia looked toward the house.
“I think your mother wanted Samantha to stop trying.”
A pulse began beating behind my eyes.
“So she invented another woman.”
“That’s what I assumed.”
I looked through the screen door.
Chloe stood inside the hall, barely visible.
“Maybe she didn’t invent her.”
Patricia followed my gaze.
Neither of us spoke.
The door opened.
Chloe stepped outside.
“I need to tell you something.”
I stood.
“No.”
Her face fell.
“You’ve had five years to tell me things.”
“Please.”
“I’m going to find Samantha.”
Chloe stepped in front of me.
“You can’t just show up at the airport.”
“Watch me.”
“She might not be there.”
“Then I’ll find out when she works.”
“You shouldn’t do that.”
The fear in her voice stopped me.
“Why?”
She crossed her arms tightly.
“Because she has a life.”
“So do I.”
“And you could damage hers.”
I studied her.
“What exactly are you afraid I’ll find?”
“I’m afraid you’re going to charge into something you don’t understand.”
“That seems to be the family motto around here.”
My mother appeared behind the screen.
“Ethan, come inside.”
I ignored her.
Chloe stepped closer.
“Samantha doesn’t want you involved.”
“She told you that?”
“No.”
“Then stop speaking for her.”
“She had five years to contact you.”
“So did everyone standing in this house.”
That silenced her.
I grabbed my keys from the table inside and headed toward the driveway.
My mother followed me onto the porch.
“If you go to her, you are going to make everything worse.”
I turned.
“For whom?”
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
“For whom, Mom?”
Her eyes moved toward Chloe.
It lasted perhaps half a second.
It was enough.
I got into the car.
O’Hare’s employee services office could not legally give me Samantha’s schedule, which was exactly what the irritated woman behind the glass informed me after I asked twice.
I spent forty minutes walking through terminals feeling increasingly foolish.
Then I saw the yellow cleaning cart near baggage claim.
Samantha was not beside it.
An older man in the same uniform was replacing a trash liner.
“Excuse me.”
He looked up.
“I’m looking for Samantha Reed.”
His expression became cautious.
“You family?”
“I’m her ex-husband.”
“That usually doesn’t make people family.”
“I just need to talk to her.”
He tied the bag.
“She’s on break.”
“Where?”
He shook his head.
“Sir, I’m not trying to cause trouble.”
“People who say that are usually warming up.”
I pulled out my phone.
“I’ll give her my number.”
He studied me for a moment.
Then his eyes moved past my shoulder.
His face changed.
I turned.
Two children stood near the vending machines holding identical blue backpacks.
A woman I had never seen was crouched between them, fixing the zipper on one bag.
They were boys.
Maybe four.
Maybe five.
One was talking rapidly while the other watched travelers passing behind me.
Then the quiet one looked directly at my face.
Everything inside me stopped.
He had dark brown hair and Samantha’s narrow chin.
But his eyes were mine.
Not merely the color.
The shape.
The slight downward tilt at the outer corners that I had inherited from my father.
The other boy turned at the sound of his brother’s voice.
His face was different enough that nobody would mistake them for identical twins.
His eyes were the same.
My knees weakened.
The older cleaner said something behind me, but I could not hear him.
One of the boys tugged on the woman’s sleeve.
“Miss Carla, Mom’s coming.”
I looked toward the corridor.
Samantha emerged carrying two cartons of chocolate milk.
She saw me.
The cartons slipped from her hands.
One hit the floor and burst.
Chocolate milk spread between her shoes.
Nobody moved.
The louder boy looked from Samantha to me.
“Mom?”
Samantha’s face drained white.
I could barely force the words through my throat.
“Two?”
Her eyes closed.
When they opened, the exhaustion I had noticed the day before was gone.
What replaced it was fear.
“Ethan, please.”
I looked at the boys again.
One had begun edging behind the woman named Carla.
The other was still staring at me.
“How old are they?”
Samantha bent and picked up the unbroken carton.
Her hand trembled.
“Not here.”
“How old?”
“Ethan.”
“How old are they?”
The quiet boy answered for her.
“We’re four and three quarters.”
His brother corrected him.
“Four and ten months.”
“That’s not how quarters work.”
“It’s close.”
Under any other circumstances, the argument might have been funny.
Instead, I felt as though the floor beneath me had disappeared.
I looked at Samantha.
“Are they mine?”
She glanced toward the children.
That hesitation hurt more than an answer.
“Samantha.”
Carla stood and placed herself slightly in front of the boys.
Samantha took one step toward me.
Her voice dropped.
“Do not do this in front of them.”
“I asked you a question.”
“And I’m asking you to remember they’re children.”
The correction landed cleanly.
I looked at the boys again.
The quieter one had grabbed his brother’s hand.
Whatever they saw in my face frightened them.
I stepped backward.
Samantha let out a breath.
“Come with me.”
She told Carla she would be back in ten minutes.
Carla answered, “Take fifteen.”
We walked toward a quieter corridor near an employees-only door.
Samantha stopped beside a row of locked service cabinets.
I waited.
She rubbed both palms against her uniform.
“They’re yours.”
The airport continued around us.
A boarding announcement echoed overhead.
A baggage cart beeped somewhere beyond the wall.
A man laughed loudly into his phone.
I stared at Samantha.
“Both?”
A bitter flicker crossed her face.
“That is generally how twins work, Ethan.”
I almost snapped at her.
Instead, I put one hand against the wall.
Their faces returned to me.
Four years and ten months.
First steps.
First words.
Fevers.
Birthdays.
May you like
Nightmares.
Everything ordinary that a father was supposed to know.
