Chương 5
Then Noah called from the living room.
“Can I have popcorn?”
Emily shut her eyes.
Daniel looked toward the doorway.
“Sure, buddy.”
“Not burnt.”
“That happened once.”
“It happened twice.”
Daniel opened a cabinet.
Emily watched him take out the bag, tear the plastic wrapper, set the microwave for two minutes.
The sheer normality of it was unbearable.
“You kept this from me for five years.”
Daniel stopped the microwave before it started.
“I thought you knew the important part.”
“You thought I knew Michael was contacting Mom.”
“Yes.”
“You never once confirmed that with me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
He looked at the microwave display.
“Because I was scared.”
She waited.
“Of what?”
“That you’d want him in Noah’s life.”
Emily stared at him.
There it was.
Not protection.
Not consideration.
Self-interest.
Daniel rubbed both palms over his face.
“I met Noah when he was twenty months old. You remember how he used to call every man with dark hair ‘Da’?”
“Yes.”
“The first time he said it to me, I went home and cried in my truck.”
Emily’s anger faltered.
“I never told you that.”
“No.”
“Because it was ridiculous. We’d been dating four months.”
He laughed faintly.
“I sat outside my apartment crying because a toddler misidentified me.”
“That isn’t ridiculous.”
“It felt ridiculous.”
He looked at her.
“When your mom told me Michael had contacted her, my first thought wasn’t about what was right. My first thought was that he could take Noah away from me.”
“You weren’t even his father then.”
“I know.”
“You had no legal relationship to him.”
“I know.”
“And after we married?”
“I should have told you.”
“After you adopted him?”
Daniel’s face tightened.
“Yes.”
The adoption had happened when Noah was four.
Michael had never appeared in court.
Because Michael had never been legally established as Noah’s father, Daniel’s attorney had explained the process, notices, consents, the steps required under the circumstances. Emily remembered answering every question.
She suddenly felt sick.
“Did Michael know about the adoption?”
Daniel said nothing.
“Daniel.”
“I don’t know.”
“You knew he was in contact with Mom.”
“Yes.”
“Did she tell him?”
“I don’t know.”
Emily opened the kitchen door.
Margaret stood on the other side.
She had been coming upstairs.
Not eavesdropping, apparently.
The distinction did not matter.
Emily looked at her.
“Did you tell Michael that Daniel was adopting Noah?”
Margaret’s face gave her the answer.
“No.”
Emily laughed once.
Margaret entered the kitchen.
“He had stopped calling.”
“So?”
“I didn’t have a current number.”
“You could have tried.”
“Yes.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Margaret looked at Daniel.
Then at Emily.
“Because Daniel had become Noah’s father in every way that mattered.”
Emily stared at both of them.
“That wasn’t your decision.”
“No.”
“You keep agreeing like it makes it better.”
“It doesn’t.”
Noah appeared in the doorway.
“Is popcorn happening?”
All three adults turned.
Daniel picked up the bag.
“Yes.”
“Because it’s been like nine years.”
“It has been ninety seconds.”
Noah leaned against the doorframe.
“That’s a long time when you’re waiting for popcorn.”
Margaret covered her mouth.
A strange sound escaped her.
It was almost a laugh and almost a sob.
Noah looked at her.
“Are you okay?”
Margaret lowered her hand.
“No.”
He considered this answer with surprising seriousness.
“Me neither.”
Emily’s anger drained for one heartbeat.
Only one.
She crouched.
“Noah, Grandma is going home.”
His eyes widened.
“Because she lied?”
“Yes.”
Margaret closed her eyes.
“Is she in trouble?”
“This is grown-up trouble.”
“Like jail?”
“No.”
“Like when Dad slept in the guest room?”
Daniel stared at the microwave.
Emily almost smiled.
“Something like that.”
“That was because he bought the motorcycle.”
Daniel muttered, “I returned it.”
“You bought it first,” Emily said.
Noah nodded, satisfied that the historical record had been corrected.
Margaret picked up her purse.
“I’ll go.”
Noah ran to her.
Emily almost stopped him.
She didn’t.
He wrapped his arms around Margaret’s waist.
Margaret bent and held him, her face twisting over his shoulder.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
Margaret looked at Emily.
“For making things harder than they needed to be.”
Noah accepted this.
“Okay.”
Children, Emily thought, had no idea how expensive forgiveness could become later.
Margaret drove home in the rain.
Emily watched her taillights disappear.
The suitcase stayed.
Daniel carried it upstairs after Noah went to bed.
They placed it on the dining room table.
Neither suggested opening the letter.
Not yet.
At midnight, Emily found herself in the kitchen drinking water she did not want.
Daniel entered quietly.
“You should sleep.”
“So should you.”
He opened the refrigerator and stared inside.
After several seconds he closed it without taking anything.
Emily sat at the table.
“Did you ever look for Michael?”
“No.”
“Not once?”
“No.”
“Did Mom?”
“I don’t know.”
“You never asked.”
“I stopped asking about him after the adoption.”
She looked at the envelope.
“For Noah Carter, when he is old enough.”
Daniel sat opposite her.
“You don’t have to open it tonight.”
“It’s not mine.”
“No.”
“But he’s seven.”
“Yes.”
“So he’s obviously not old enough.”
“Probably not.”
“What is old enough?”
Daniel rubbed his thumb along a scratch in the table.
“I don’t know.”
“Ten? Eighteen? Forty?”
“I don’t know.”
“What if it says something he should know medically?”
“Then we should know.”
“What if it’s just a guilt dump from a man who wanted to feel better about abandoning his kid?”
“Then Noah shouldn’t have to carry it.”
“What if Michael is dead?”
Daniel looked up.
Emily had not allowed herself to consider the possibility until she said it.
“What if Mom kept this because she knew something else?”
“Call her.”
“No.”
“Okay.”
“I don’t want her version anymore.”
Daniel sat back.
“That leaves us with a sealed letter from eight years ago.”
“Seven.”
“Seven.”
“And a name.”
Daniel looked at her.
Emily knew exactly what he was thinking.
Phones existed.
Search engines existed.
May you like
County records existed.
Social media existed.
