Chương 11
Daniel watched it close.
“I’ve never gotten rid of your mother that fast.”
“Don’t enjoy it.”
“I’m trying to enjoy something.”
Mara leaned against the counter.
“Where were you last night?”
Daniel’s expression changed.
“Baltimore.”
“Where in Baltimore?”
“Johns Hopkins.”
Mara stared at him.
“The hospital?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He put down his coffee.
“My brother called me Tuesday.”
“Michael?”
“Yes.”
“He hasn’t spoken to you in two years.”
“I know.”
“What happened?”
“He’s sick.”
The anger Mara had been preparing lost its footing.
“How sick?”
“They found a mass on his pancreas.”
“Oh.”
It was all she had.
Daniel rubbed his palm over his jaw.
“He asked me not to tell anyone until the biopsy.”
“So you lied to me.”
“Yes.”
“Why not say there was a family emergency?”
“Because you would ask which family member.”
“You could have said he asked for privacy.”
“I could have.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
She looked at him.
“Why?”
Daniel’s eyes moved toward the window.
“Because I didn’t want you coming.”
The answer hurt more than she expected.
“You thought I would?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t want me there.”
“No.”
“Why?”
He gave a tired laugh.
“Because Michael hates you.”
Mara blinked.
“Michael barely knows me.”
“He knows enough.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means he thinks I changed after I married you.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
She waited.
Daniel looked at her.
“Not in the way he means.”
Mara folded her arms.
“This is a terrible morning for ambiguous statements.”
“I know.”
“So fix it.”
Daniel dragged out a chair and sat.
“Michael thinks your family absorbs people.”
Mara almost laughed.
“What?”
“He said when I married you, I stopped being a Carter and became an auxiliary Ellison.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
Daniel glanced toward the front door where Elaine waited.
“Your mother has a key to our house.”
“For emergencies.”
“She used it last month to reorganize our pantry.”
“She thought she was helping.”
“Your father chooses our home repair projects.”
“You ask him.”
“Because saying no to Richard is like kicking a golden retriever.”
Despite herself, Mara smiled.
It disappeared quickly.
“And Noah?”
“He calls me when he needs legal advice and disappears when I send him a bill.”
“You’ve never sent Noah a bill.”
“That was the joke.”
Mara rubbed her forehead.
“What does any of this have to do with last night?”
Daniel’s expression softened.
“I wanted one thing in my life that didn’t immediately become an Ellison family event.”
She looked at him.
“And instead you lied.”
“Yes.”
“Which made it worse.”
“Yes.”
“That’s stupid.”
“Extremely.”
The answer took some of the fight out of her.
Daniel stood.
“I’m not having an affair.”
Mara looked away.
“I didn’t ask.”
“You thought it.”
She did not deny it.
He moved closer but stopped before touching her.
“I’ve been unhappy.”
“So have I.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
She looked at him then.
For the first time in months, neither of them seemed interested in winning.
It was not reconciliation.
It was simply exhaustion without armor.
Her phone rang.
Noah.
Mara answered.
“Are you outside?”
“No.”
His voice was strange.
Quiet and breathless.
“I went in.”
Mara straightened.
“You promised me.”
“I know.”
“Where’s Thomas?”
“He’s here.”
“Put him on.”
“No.”
“Noah.”
“You need to come.”
Mara’s pulse accelerated.
“What happened?”
“Thomas showed me something.”
“What?”
“A photograph.”
Mara looked toward Daniel.
“Dad has the photograph.”
“Not that one.”
“What photograph?”
Noah swallowed.
“It was taken at St. Matthew’s.”
“When?”
“The day I was born.”
Mara closed her eyes.
“Who’s in it?”
“Dad.”
“Richard?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“Dr. Levin.”
Mara waited.
Noah’s breathing came unevenly through the phone.
“And a baby.”
Mara’s grip tightened.
“Is it you?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s writing on the back.”
“Whose writing?”
“Dad’s.”
Mara felt the kitchen disappear around her.
“What does it say?”
Noah took a breath.
“It says, ‘Elaine can never know they gave us the wrong child.’”
Mara heard Daniel say her name, but she lifted one hand without looking at him.
“Noah, read it again.”
“I already did.”
“Read it exactly.”
Paper shifted near the phone.
Then Noah said, more slowly, “Elaine can never know they gave us the wrong child.”
Mara pressed her free hand against the counter.
“Is there a date?”
“March nineteenth, 1991.”
“That’s your birthday.”
“The birthday I grew up with.”
“Right.”
She shut her eyes.
“Right.”
Daniel moved beside her.
“What happened?”
Mara turned on speaker.
“Noah, Daniel’s here.”
“Great.”
“Noah.”
“Sorry.”
He sounded frayed now, his usual sarcasm breaking at the edges.
“Thomas says the photograph belonged to Dr. Levin.”
A second voice came faintly through the phone.
Thomas.
Mara could not make out the words.
Noah answered him sharply.
“No, I’m not giving you the phone yet.”
“Why does Thomas have it?” Mara asked.
“He says Levin mailed it to him six years ago.”
“Why?”
“I’m getting there.”
“Noah, I need you to stop saying things like that.”
“Then come here.”
“We will.”
Daniel looked at her.
Mara ignored the question in his face.
“First tell me why Thomas had the picture.”
Noah breathed out.
“Levin contacted him because he was trying to find Dad.”
“That makes no sense.”
“I know.”
“Dad lived in the same house for thirty years.”
“Levin didn’t have his current information.”
“He could have found it online.”
“I said that.”
“And?”
“Thomas says Levin wasn’t exactly functioning normally by then.”
Mara frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Thomas spoke in the background again.
Noah listened.
“Early dementia,” he said.
“His daughter was handling most of his affairs.”
Mara looked at Daniel.
Daniel shook his head slightly, not in disbelief but warning her not to build certainty from a sick man’s note.
“Did Thomas speak to Levin?”
“Once.”
“And?”
“He kept confusing Dad with Thomas.”
Mara’s irritation sharpened.
“Then the photograph proves nothing.”
“I didn’t say it proves anything.”
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“You drove to Maryland because a stranger showed you a photograph from a doctor with dementia.”
“I drove here because my birth certificate was altered by that same doctor twelve years before he developed dementia.”
