Chương 9
Emily kept folding.
“He taught me to drive.”
“I know.”
“He paid for college.”
“I know.”
“He called me every Sunday when I moved to Seattle.”
Emily stopped.
Daniel stared at the ceiling.
“Stephen doesn’t get to show up and be my father.”
“No.”
“Even if he is.”
“No.”
Daniel looked at her.
“But I want to know him.”
Emily nodded.
“That doesn’t take anything from William.”
Daniel’s eyes filled.
“I know.”
“You don’t sound like you believe it.”
“I don’t yet.”
The next week, Daniel and Stephen spoke by phone.
Emily did not listen.
She took Noah upstairs and gave Daniel the living room.
The conversation lasted two hours and thirteen minutes.
When Emily came down, Daniel was still sitting in the same place.
His phone rested on the coffee table.
Margaret’s DNA report was locked in the desk drawer now, kept not because anyone needed it emotionally but because William’s attorney had suggested preserving every document while he sorted through his separation.
Emily hated that the situation had acquired attorneys.
Real crises rarely stayed inside emotional categories.
There were joint accounts.
Property.
Retirement funds.
Insurance beneficiaries.
Passwords.
William had discovered that fear and betrayal still required paperwork.
Daniel looked at Emily.
“He says he’ll do a DNA test.”
“How was the call?”
“Weird.”
She waited.
“He sounds like me.”
Emily sat down.
“How?”
“He says ‘anyway’ when he wants to stop talking about something emotional.”
Emily smiled faintly.
“You do that constantly.”
“I know.”
“What else?”
“He hates olives.”
“That proves it.”
Daniel gave her a tired look.
“He has two daughters. Claire and Jenna.”
“Your possible half-sisters.”
“Don’t say it like that yet.”
“Okay.”
“He hasn’t told them.”
Emily nodded.
“He asked if I wanted him to.”
“What did you say?”
“I said I don’t know.”
“Reasonable.”
“He cried.”
Emily looked at him.
Daniel rubbed his eyes.
“Everybody keeps crying and I’m somehow the one who feels embarrassed.”
“Also reasonable.”
Stephen sent a sample through an accredited facility in Arizona.
Daniel provided another sample locally.
The result arrived nine days later.
99.9987 percent probability of paternity.
Daniel read it alone first.
Then he drove to William’s temporary apartment.
Emily did not go.
Some conversations belonged to her family but were not hers to occupy.
William called her that evening.
“Did he get home?”
“Not yet.”
“You doing okay?”
Emily looked at Noah sleeping on her chest.
“Define okay.”
William laughed softly.
“Fair.”
Emily hesitated.
“How are you?”
“I bought frozen lasagna.”
“That bad?”
“I ate half of it directly out of the aluminum tray.”
“Definitely bad.”
They were quiet.
Then William said, “Thank you for not letting this turn into Noah’s problem.”
Emily looked down at the baby.
“I’m trying.”
“You did more than try.”
She did not know how to answer.
William continued.
“Daniel told me what happened that morning. What Margaret said to you.”
Emily swallowed.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“That you’re in the middle of this.”
William gave a small laugh.
“I think we passed the middle.”
He was right.
The story had spread through the family in slow, awkward circles.
William told his sister.
His sister called Daniel and cried.
Margaret told her own sister, Linda, who apparently said, “Well, you finally managed to make the worst possible version of this happen.”
Margaret repeated that sentence to Daniel during one of their brief phone calls as though Linda’s cruelty proved Margaret had suffered too.
Daniel did not disagree.
He also did not comfort her.
That was new.
Margaret had spent years depending on Daniel’s inability to tolerate her distress.
Now he let silence remain where reassurance used to go.
Emily saw how difficult that was for him.
She also saw that boundaries looked much less dramatic in real life than people imagined.
Mostly they looked like unanswered calls.
Shorter visits.
Locked doors.
Questions answered with, “I’m not discussing that.”
Margaret asked to see Noah.
Daniel said no.
She asked again three days later.
Daniel said not yet.
Then she called Emily.
It was the first direct call since the confrontation.
Emily watched the phone ring.
She did not answer.
Margaret left a voicemail.
“Emily. I would like to apologize in person. I understand if you aren’t ready. I’m not asking you to call me back today. I just... I would like the chance.”
Emily listened twice.
She hated that the voicemail sounded sincere.
It would have been easier if Margaret remained entirely awful.
Two days later, Emily agreed to meet her at a coffee shop.
Daniel offered to come.
Emily said no.
Noah stayed with Daniel.
It was the first time Emily had left the house without the baby for more than a medical appointment.
She sat in her car outside the café for seven minutes because she suddenly did not want to go inside.
Her shirt felt wrong.
Her body felt unfamiliar.
She checked the diaper bag even though there was no diaper bag.
Then she laughed at herself and immediately felt like crying.
Margaret was already seated when Emily entered.
No black clothing this time.
A gray sweater.
No carefully styled confidence.
She looked tired.
Emily sat across from her.
Margaret had bought two coffees.
Emily looked at hers.
“Decaf?”
Margaret nodded.
Emily almost resented her for remembering.
Neither woman touched the drinks.
Finally Margaret said, “I’m sorry.”
Emily waited.
Margaret swallowed.
“I’m sorry I accused you.”
Emily continued waiting.
“I’m sorry I came into your home when Daniel had told me not to.”
Still Emily said nothing.
Margaret looked down.
“And I’m sorry I reached for Noah.”
Emily’s throat tightened.
Margaret rubbed her thumb against the cardboard sleeve on her cup.
“I have replayed that moment a lot.”
“So have I.”
“I would not have hurt him.”
“I know.”
Margaret looked up, surprised.
Emily continued.
“That isn’t what I’m afraid of.”
“What are you afraid of?”
“That you still think love gives you permission.”
Margaret frowned.
Emily had not planned the sentence.
May you like
She let it stand.
Margaret looked toward the window.
