Chương 3
He told her she was terrified of being alone.
She told him he was terrified of being known.
Then she kissed him.
Afterward, they agreed it was a mistake.
Six weeks later she reconciled with Mark.
Two months after that, she told Nathan she was pregnant.
Nathan had asked exactly one question.
Is there any chance it’s mine?
Rachel had answered no.
He had believed her.
“You knew there was a chance,” Nathan said.
Rachel’s voice came from behind him.
“Yes.”
“When she was born?”
“Yes.”
“When I held her at the hospital?”
Rachel started crying then.
Not loudly.
Nathan turned.
She covered her mouth.
He remembered the hospital.
Sophie had been six hours old.
Mark had been asleep in a chair, exhausted and deliriously happy.
Rachel had handed the baby to Nathan.
Sophie’s face had been pink and furious.
Nathan had looked down at her and said, “She looks like Winston Churchill.”
Rachel laughed so hard she had grabbed her incision.
That memory changed shape in front of him.
He hated it for changing.
“You knew.”
Rachel wiped her face.
“I knew it was possible.”
Victoria spoke for the first time.
“Nathan—”
He turned.
“No.”
She stopped.
“Not yet.”
Victoria nodded.
Nathan looked at Rachel again.
“Did Mark know?”
Rachel’s answer came slowly.
“He knew there was a possibility.”
Nathan sat down.
That hurt differently.
“Mark knew.”
“Yes.”
“And he stayed.”
“Yes.”
Nathan looked toward the door as if Sophie might somehow be standing on the other side.
Mark Miller had been dead almost four years.
A climbing accident near Buena Vista. Bad weather, a loose hold, one impossible phone call.
Nathan had helped carry the casket.
He had sat beside Sophie at the funeral while Rachel accepted condolences until she could barely stand.
He had spent the next three years being exactly what Sophie called him.
Uncle Nathan.
Birthday presents.
Zoo trips.
Emergency pickup from kindergarten when Rachel got stuck in traffic.
A bicycle he spent three hours assembling and another forty minutes pretending had not taken three hours.
He had thought he was being a good friend.
Maybe he had been a father without being allowed to know it.
That thought made him stand again.
“What changed?”
Rachel looked confused.
“What?”
“Seven years. Why test now?”
She rubbed at a spot on her thumb.
“Her pediatrician asked for updated family history.”
Nathan waited.
“That’s not enough.”
“No.”
“Rachel.”
She breathed out.
“Sophie fainted in November.”
Nathan’s stomach dropped.
“What?”
“It was at school. She was fine.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“She was dehydrated. The cardiologist didn’t find anything alarming.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t tell half the people I know.”
“I’m not half the people you know.”
Rachel’s face tightened.
“No. You’re not.”
Nathan heard the bitterness in it.
That stopped him.
Rachel sat down.
“They asked about cardiac history. Mark’s family has some issues. I realized I didn’t actually know which history mattered.”
“So you tested her.”
“Not for medical diagnosis. I know genealogy sites don’t replace medical testing.”
“Then why?”
“Because I was tired of not knowing.”
Nathan looked at Victoria.
“And you?”
Victoria’s engagement ring caught the lamp light.
“Rachel called me after the first result.”
“Why you?”
“Because she was scared.”
“Why you?”
Victoria held his gaze.
“Because she knew I was planning a life with you.”
Nathan almost smiled.
“That sounds noble.”
“It isn’t.”
Rachel looked at Victoria.
Victoria continued.
“She wanted to tell you.”
“And you stopped her.”
“I asked her to wait.”
“You told her I never had to know.”
“I said something I shouldn’t have said.”
“You typed it.”
“Yes.”
“You had time to read it before you sent it.”
“Yes.”
“You had time to delete it afterward.”
Victoria swallowed.
“Yes.”
Nathan looked at her hand.
Three nights earlier, he had proposed beside the frozen pond behind the lodge.
Victoria had cried.
He had cried too, though only after she laughed and accused him of dropping the ring because his hands were shaking.
They had stood in the snow with their foreheads touching.
Nathan had said he wanted no secrets between them.
It was such a predictable thing to say that he had nearly made fun of himself afterward.
Victoria had kissed him instead.
She already knew.
“How long?”
Victoria looked down.
“Six weeks.”
Nathan said nothing.
“I found out six weeks ago.”
“And every day since then?”
“I thought Rachel should be the one to tell you.”
“You told her not to.”
“I told her not to do it before the engagement weekend.”
“Why?”
Victoria’s eyes filled but did not spill over.
“I was afraid.”
Nathan waited.
She seemed disappointed that he made her say the rest.
“I thought you would postpone the proposal.”
Nathan stared at her.
She shook her head.
“I know how that sounds.”
“It sounds accurate.”
“Nathan.”
“You thought I might change my mind if I learned I had a daughter.”
“I thought your whole life might change overnight.”
“It would.”
“I know.”
“No. You knew. That’s the problem.”
Victoria looked away.
He was suddenly tired of standing.
Tired of the suit.
Tired of the firelight beyond the door.
Tired of being watched by people who had flown to Colorado to celebrate a future that had apparently required careful management of his access to reality.
He pulled off his tie.
Rachel watched him.
“What happens now?” she asked.
Nathan looked at her.
“You tell Sophie the truth.”
Rachel blinked.
“I have been trying to figure out how.”
“No more figuring out.”
“She’s seven.”
“She already knows enough to steal a phone and stop an engagement dinner.”
Victoria flinched at the word steal.
Nathan noticed and became angrier because he noticed.
Rachel stood.
“I’ll talk to her.”
“I’m there.”
“Nathan—”
“I’m there.”
“She is my daughter.”
The words hung between them.
Rachel’s face changed.
Nathan heard himself.
He corrected it.
“She might be my daughter.”
“That difference matters right now.”
Rachel wiped her cheek.
“Yes.”
May you like
Nathan pointed toward the door.
“And she matters more than whether any of us are comfortable.”
