Chương 6
Evan joined her after a moment.
“Do you want me to leave?”
She looked at him.
“No.”
“Do you want me to stay?”
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Evan nodded.
“That’s fair.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“I know.”
“I married you.”
“I was there.”
Despite herself, she laughed.
It became a sob.
Evan lowered his head.
“I’m trying very hard not to make this about me.”
“It is about you.”
“Partly.”
“I love you.”
He looked at her then.
She hated how much pain was in his face.
“I believe you,” he said.
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“It isn’t.”
Claire wiped beneath her eyes.
“I didn’t know.”
“I know.”
“About any of this.”
“I know.”
He looked toward Damian.
“You also didn’t stop loving a dead man because your father told you to.”
Claire said nothing.
Evan nodded again, almost to himself.
“That part I think I knew.”
She stared at him.
“How?”
“You say Damian’s name in your sleep.”
Claire felt the room disappear.
Evan gave a small embarrassed shrug.
“Not often.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“What would I say? Please stop dreaming incorrectly?”
“Evan.”
“I knew you had grief. I thought grief was allowed to come to the wedding.”
His voice broke on the last word.
He looked away.
Claire reached for his hand.
He let her hold it.
Neither of them pretended that fixed anything.
Across the room, Richard and Damian had begun arguing in low voices.
Claire watched her father point once toward the doors.
Damian shook his head.
“No,” Claire said.
Both men stopped.
“I need everybody to stop deciding what happens next.”
Richard sighed.
“Then what do you want?”
“I want the truth.”
“You have heard the truth.”
“No. I’ve heard six people admit pieces of it.”
She looked at Damian.
“You said Marjorie contacted you.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She’s sick.”
“What kind of sick?”
“Cancer.”
Richard’s mouth tightened.
Claire noticed.
“Is she dying?”
“She told me probably.”
“And that made her confess?”
“She said she was tired of waking up at three in the morning.”
“Where is she?”
“New Jersey.”
Claire nodded.
“I want to talk to her.”
Richard said, “Absolutely not.”
Claire turned.
“You no longer get a vote.”
“I am telling you she is unreliable.”
“Because she disobeyed you?”
“Because she was fired for taking confidential records.”
Helen looked at him.
“You told me she retired.”
Richard stared at his wife.
Helen gave a small, sad laugh.
“Of course.”
Claire looked at Damian.
“Did she give you anything besides letters?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Copies of invoices. Emails. Notes she kept.”
Richard stepped forward.
“Those materials belong to Bennett Development and may contain privileged information.”
Evan stared at him.
“Your daughter just discovered you fabricated the death of her child’s father, and you have reached intellectual-property law.”
Richard’s jaw tightened.
“I did not fabricate a death.”
Claire looked at him.
“Then explain the memorial.”
Richard did not answer.
“The newspaper notice.”
No answer.
“The urn you gave me.”
Damian turned.
“What urn?”
Claire looked at him.
Richard went completely still.
A ceramic urn had sat on a mantel in Claire’s apartment for three years.
She had eventually buried it beneath the memorial marker.
Richard had told her the funeral home released what little remained after the burned truck had been processed.
Damian’s eyes fixed on Richard.
“What was in it?”
Richard said nothing.
Claire’s voice became almost inaudible.
“What was in the urn?”
Helen began crying again.
Richard looked at the floor.
“Crematory remains.”
“Whose?”
“No one’s.”
Claire stared.
“What does that mean?”
“There are lawful processes for memorial containers when remains are unavailable.”
“You gave me an urn full of ash.”
“Yes.”
“And told me it was him.”
“I allowed you to have a funeral.”
Megan made a sound of disgust.
Claire’s body moved before thought did.
She slapped her father.
The sound was small in the huge room.
Richard’s head turned.
Nobody moved.
Claire looked at her own hand as though someone else had used it.
Richard touched his cheek.
Claire immediately hated that she had done it.
Not because he did not deserve anger.
Because she had spent thirty-five years learning from him that power meant deciding what other people deserved.
She stepped back.
“I shouldn’t have done that.”
Richard laughed bitterly.
“Finally, something we agree on.”
Damian moved toward him.
Claire raised a hand.
“No.”
Damian stopped.
Richard looked at her.
“You think this is simple now.”
“I don’t think anything is simple.”
“You will.”
“No.”
“I saved you.”
Claire stared.
There it was again.
Not apology.
Not remorse.
Certainty.
Richard continued.
“You were twenty-nine years old, pregnant, tied to a man who had hidden an opioid addiction from you. He had debt. He had a record. He had violent friends.”
Damian’s expression hardened.
“I had one assault conviction when I was nineteen.”
“You put a man in the hospital.”
“He broke my brother’s jaw first.”
“And there is always a reason.”
Damian looked away.
Richard turned back to Claire.
“He lied to you. He was using drugs behind your back. He was preparing to marry you without telling you the truth.”
Claire glanced at Damian.
“That part is true?”
“Yes.”
“You would have married me without telling me?”
Damian’s answer took several seconds.
“I don’t know.”
Richard gave a sharp laugh.
“Of course you do.”
Damian looked at Claire.
“I was ashamed. I kept saying I would stop before you found out. Then I’d tell you after I stopped because somehow that would make the lie smaller.”
Claire knew that logic.
Not because she had been addicted to pills.
Because she had spent years avoiding questions about her father.
People could protect a lie by promising themselves they were only postponing the truth.
“You should have told me.”
“Yes.”
“I might have left you.”
“I know.”
“You didn’t give me that choice.”
“No.”
The symmetry made her stomach turn.
Claire looked at Richard.
“Neither did you.”
Richard’s expression shifted.
May you like
Only slightly.
For the first time, she thought he understood the comparison.
