Chương 6
Then he looked at Noah.
“It means related by birth.”
Noah looked at Ethan.
Then at Leah.
“Am I not?”
Leah’s face crumpled.
She reached for him.
He moved away.
“Am I not?”
Bennett said, “Your father knew before he died that the older family trust might not legally include you.”
“Why?”
Noah’s voice was very small now.
Ethan knew the answer before anyone spoke.
The photograph.
Both are mine because I chose them.
He looked at his brother’s blond hair.
At the shape of his nose.
At his narrow chin.
Things he had never thought about suddenly seemed like evidence.
Leah said, “Your dad loved you.”
Noah stood up.
“I didn’t ask that.”
He ran from the kitchen.
Leah followed.
Ethan remained at the table.
Bennett sat opposite him.
Claire’s face stayed on the laptop screen.
Ethan asked, “Is Noah not my real brother?”
Claire answered immediately.
“He is your real brother.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“I know.”
“Do we have the same dad?”
Bennett looked down.
“No.”
Ethan’s first feeling was relief.
It was so ugly that shame came right behind it.
He was relieved because the difference belonged to Noah, not him.
Then he hated himself for being relieved.
“Did Dad know?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“We don’t know exactly yet.”
“Did Mom know?”
“Yes.”
“Does Noah know?”
Bennett glanced toward the hallway.
“He does now.”
Ethan wanted to throw something.
Not at Bennett.
Not exactly.
He wanted the whole morning to become physical enough to break.
Instead he picked up his father’s untouched coffee cup and pushed it two inches across the table.
“Why did Dad say both sons?”
Bennett looked at him.
“Because he considered both of you his sons.”
“That’s not how the trust did.”
“No.”
“So the trust mattered more?”
“Not to your dad.”
“Then why couldn’t he change it?”
“It wasn’t his money to rewrite.”
That answer sounded unfair in a way Ethan could understand.
Bennett went on carefully.
“So he created something else for Noah. Something separate that he did control.”
“How much?”
Bennett almost smiled.
“You’re seven.”
“I know numbers.”
“I believe you.”
“How much?”
“We don’t know the final amount yet.”
“Is it less?”
Bennett hesitated.
Claire answered.
“Daniel tried to make it comparable.”
Ethan frowned.
“What’s comparable?”
“About equal.”
That changed something.
He pictured his mother in the kitchen, speaking too quietly into the phone.
His name can’t be in the trust.
At the time Ethan thought they were discussing a clerical error.
Now he remembered the rest.
Not all of it.
Enough.
She had said, If both boys show up, Bennett will know.
Ethan’s skin went cold.
“I heard more.”
Bennett leaned forward.
“What?”
“The night Mom was talking in the kitchen.”
Leah returned alone.
Her face was wet.
She stood in the doorway.
Ethan said, “She said if both boys showed up, Mr. Bennett would know.”
Nobody spoke.
Then Claire asked, “Know what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who was she talking to?”
Ethan searched his memory.
He had come downstairs for water.
The kitchen light was off except above the stove.
His mother stood by the sink with her phone pressed to her ear.
She had said, I need Ethan’s appointment handled before anyone asks where Noah is.
A man’s voice? A woman’s?
He could not remember.
“She said somebody’s name.”
“What name?” Bennett asked.
Ethan squeezed his eyes shut.
The memory refused to become clearer because adults wanted it to.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s okay.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“It is.”
“You need it.”
“We might. But guessing would be worse.”
Ethan opened his eyes.
Bennett’s expression had softened.
“Do not try to make your memory better than it is.”
The sentence stayed with Ethan.
Adults rarely told children not to improve an answer.
Claire said, “That’s enough for today.”
Bennett closed the laptop.
Noah did not return for another twenty minutes.
When he did, he had washed his face.
He sat beside Ethan.
“Do you still want to be my brother?”
Ethan stared at him.
“That’s stupid.”
Noah’s face collapsed.
Ethan immediately grabbed his sleeve.
“No. I mean the question is stupid.”
“You said it stupid.”
“I know.”
“You’re bad at talking.”
“I know.”
Noah looked at him.
Ethan said, “You’re still my brother.”
“What if Dad knew I wasn’t his?”
“He did.”
“What if Mom lied?”
“She lies about lots of stuff.”
Leah said sharply, “Ethan.”
“What?”
Noah gave a tiny, surprised laugh.
Ethan did too.
Leah sat down and covered her face.
“This family is going to kill me.”
Three days passed before the USB drive was opened.
The boys stayed with Leah.
Rachel came every afternoon after work.
The first visit was terrible.
She brought Noah a new set of colored pencils and Ethan a book about World War II airplanes, as if she had stopped at Target and attempted to purchase a normal evening.
Noah left the pencils unopened.
Ethan read the back cover of the book.
Rachel sat on Leah’s couch.
“What do you want me to say?”
Ethan asked, “Who’s Noah’s other dad?”
Noah looked down.
Rachel’s fingers tightened.
“There isn’t another dad.”
“You know what he means,” Leah said.
Rachel turned toward her sister.
“I am talking to my children.”
“Then talk.”
Rachel’s face hardened.
For one ugly second Ethan saw the woman from Bennett’s office.
Then the anger vanished.
She folded her hands.
“His biological father was a man named Owen Mercer.”
Noah whispered, “Was?”
“He’s alive.”
That surprised everyone.
Even Leah.
“You told me he moved overseas,” she said.
“He did. He came back.”
“When?”
“Years ago.”
Leah stood.
“You knew?”
Rachel rubbed her forehead.
“Please.”
“You knew he was here?”
“He contacted me once.”
“When?”
“After Noah turned three.”
“And?”
“And I told him Daniel was Noah’s father.”
Noah looked up.
Rachel’s voice weakened.
“Because he was.”
Ethan asked, “Did Dad know about Owen?”
“Yes.”
“Before Noah was born?”
“No.”
“How did he find out?”
May you like
Rachel looked toward the window.
A neighbor was dragging a green trash bin to the curb.
