Chương 8
“He painted your room twice because the first yellow looked green at night.”
Elaine gave a small, broken laugh.
“He hated assembling the crib so much he threw the instructions into the backyard.”
“That sounds like him.”
“He stood outside in his socks ten minutes later looking for them.”
Mara looked away.
She did not want tenderness yet.
Tenderness complicated the anger, and anger was the only thing keeping her upright.
“What did you write to Thomas?”
“That if Richard ever told you in anger, Thomas needed to know the circumstances before he responded.”
“What circumstances?”
“That Richard was your father in every way that mattered.”
Mara’s jaw tightened.
“You wrote a letter telling my biological father to stay away from me.”
“Yes.”
“Again.”
Elaine accepted that without argument.
Mara’s phone rang.
Daniel.
She answered immediately.
“I can’t get out without asking Richard to move his truck.”
“Then ask him.”
“He’s in the garage.”
“So?”
“He found the bookshelf plans.”
Mara closed her eyes.
Of course he had.
Richard could become distracted by lumber during an earthquake.
“Ask him to move.”
“I did.”
“And?”
“He said he’ll leave in five minutes.”
Elaine stepped closer.
“Is the envelope safe?”
Mara repeated the question.
“Yes.”
Daniel lowered his voice.
“But I looked at it.”
Mara felt irritation rise.
“You said you wouldn’t open it.”
“I didn’t.”
“Then what?”
“There’s something else in the envelope.”
“How do you know?”
“I held it up to the light.”
“That counts as snooping.”
“I’m having a complicated morning.”
“What’s inside?”
“A photograph, I think.”
Elaine went pale.
Mara looked at her.
“What photograph was in your letter?”
“None.”
Daniel continued.
“And something plastic.”
Mara’s eyes moved toward the wall behind the dresser.
“The hospital bracelet.”
Elaine whispered, “Richard found the compartment.”
Mara repeated it to Daniel.
“Then he has the photograph too,” Daniel said.
“Unless it’s the photograph in the envelope.”
Elaine shook her head.
“The picture from the second letter was larger.”
Mara was about to answer when Daniel abruptly stopped speaking.
In the background, a door closed.
“Daniel?”
Richard’s voice came clearly through the phone.
“Who’s that?”
Daniel hesitated.
“Mara.”
A beat passed.
Then Richard said, “Give me the phone.”
Mara’s stomach tightened.
Daniel whispered, “Sorry.”
Richard came on the line.
“Where are you?”
Mara looked at Elaine.
“Out.”
“I gathered that.”
“I’ll be home soon.”
“Are you with your mother?”
Elaine closed her eyes.
Mara said nothing.
Richard sighed.
It was an ordinary sound, the same one he made when Evie left lights on upstairs.
“Did you see the DNA results?”
There was no point lying.
“Yes.”
“All right.”
His calmness angered her more than panic would have.
“All right?”
“We need to talk.”
“Apparently everybody has decided that today.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“Since before I was born.”
“Yes.”
Mara waited for herself to feel the impact again, but the admission was almost a relief after so many evasions.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I’m your father.”
“That isn’t an explanation.”
“It was enough for me.”
“Well, it isn’t enough for me.”
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t.”
Richard was quiet.
She heard him move, then the faint squeak of her kitchen chair.
“Probably not.”
That answer disarmed her slightly.
“Did you take something from behind your dresser?”
Richard’s silence changed.
Elaine stepped closer to the phone.
“Richard?”
He heard her.
“So you are together.”
“Answer her,” Elaine said.
“I was going to.”
“When?”
“When I had figured out why you were digging through things we buried decades ago.”
“You found the letters.”
“I found enough.”
“What did you do with the photograph?”
Mara listened to the silence between her parents.
It had shape.
History.
They were not discovering each other’s secrets this morning.
They were maneuvering through old territory.
Richard said, “It’s safe.”
“Bring it here.”
“No.”
Elaine’s face hardened.
“Richard.”
“No, Elaine.”
Mara had rarely heard him use that tone with her mother.
“You started this without telling me.”
“I started nothing.”
“You bought the tests.”
“I had to.”
“You had thirty-five years to decide you had to.”
“Someone wrote to me.”
“I know.”
Elaine froze.
Mara felt the room change.
“How?”
Richard did not answer.
Elaine took the phone from Mara.
“How do you know about the letters?”
“I saw one.”
“You told me you hadn’t.”
“I lied.”
Elaine closed her eyes.
The simplicity of the admission seemed to wound her.
“Why?”
“Because I needed to know what you would do.”
“You let me think I was losing my mind.”
“No.”
“You watched me search hospital records, Richard.”
“I watched you become obsessed with an anonymous letter.”
“It had details.”
“Details can be learned.”
“Not those.”
Mara reached for the phone.
“Dad, who sent the letters?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you believe the baby lived?”
A long pause followed.
“I don’t know.”
It was the first time Richard had sounded old to her.
Not elderly.
Tired in a way that age could no longer disguise.
“Thomas said you told Mom something thirty-five years ago.”
Richard’s breathing stopped for a fraction of a second.
“What did Thomas tell you?”
“Not enough.”
“That’s his specialty.”
The bitterness surprised her.
“Dad.”
“I don’t want to do this over the phone.”
“Then come here.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to take care of something first.”
Elaine snatched the phone again.
“What?”
Richard did not answer.
“Richard, where is the photograph?”
“Elaine.”
“Where is it?”
“With me.”
“And the bracelet?”
“With me.”
“Bring them back.”
“No.”
“Those belong to me.”
“They belong to a dead child.”
The words silenced all three of them.
Mara looked at her mother.
Elaine’s face crumpled for an instant before she controlled it.
“You don’t know that,” she said.
Richard’s voice softened.
“No.”
“Then why are you doing this?”
“Because if somebody is using what happened to us to get to Mara, I’m not going to leave the evidence sitting in a hole behind a dresser.”
Mara took the phone.
“Get to me how?”
May you like
“I don’t know.”
“Dad.”
