Chương 7
The identifier might have been entered incorrectly.
The record might refer to another sample.
They needed the underlying laboratory audit.
“Can we get it?”
“We can request it.”
“That means no.”
“It means they may resist.”
“Then make them resist.”
Martin was quiet.
Claire heard papers moving.
“Okay.”
That evening Evan texted.
Can I see you for ten minutes?
Claire stared at the message.
Then wrote:
Ten.
He arrived at Anna’s building carrying nothing.
That helped.
Claire met him in the courtyard.
He looked terrible.
That did not help as much as she expected.
They sat on opposite ends of a wet metal bench beneath an awning.
For a while neither spoke.
Evan rubbed his hands together.
“I’m sorry.”
Claire looked toward the street.
“I know.”
“I should have told you.”
“Yes.”
“I was afraid.”
“I know.”
He laughed bitterly.
“You’re making this difficult.”
“You had four months to prepare.”
He nodded.
Rainwater dripped from the awning.
A delivery driver parked illegally, ran into the building next door, and returned thirty seconds later carrying the same package he had entered with.
Claire watched him look at the label, swear, and drive away.
Evan said, “I didn’t think you cheated.”
Claire looked at him.
“Did your mother?”
“Yes.”
“And you let her?”
“No.”
“You kept her secret.”
“I told her she was wrong.”
“That must have been exhausting.”
“Claire.”
“What?”
“I’m trying.”
“So am I.”
He looked down.
She hated that she still knew his hands.
She knew the scar across his right knuckle from a bicycle accident when he was twelve. She knew he picked at his thumbnail when anxious. She knew his fingers were always cold.
Seven years did not disappear because trust cracked.
That would have been easier.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.
“I thought the stress could hurt the pregnancy.”
“Did a doctor tell you that?”
“No.”
“So you decided.”
“Yes.”
“For me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He was silent long enough that she thought he would retreat into the same answer.
Then he said, “Because I didn’t want to know.”
Claire stared at him.
Evan rubbed his thumbnail.
“If there was a mistake, I didn’t want it to be real.”
“That’s what your father said.”
“I know.”
“You two are unbelievable.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t get points for agreeing.”
“I’m not trying to get points.”
She looked away.
Evan’s voice softened.
“I had this picture of everything. You. Me. Her. The apartment being too small. You yelling at me because I bought the wrong stroller.”
“You did buy the wrong stroller.”
“I bought the one you sent me.”
“I sent you a warning about that stroller.”
“I understand that now.”
Claire almost smiled.
She hated him a little for making it possible.
He saw it and wisely did not smile himself.
“I thought if I waited,” he said, “somebody would tell me it was a clerical error and I could throw the whole thing away.”
“And if it wasn’t?”
He looked at her belly.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s the problem.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying you know.”
“Okay.”
They sat in silence.
Then Claire asked the question she had been avoiding.
“If she isn’t genetically yours, do you still want her?”
Evan looked at her immediately.
“Yes.”
Too fast.
Claire shook her head.
“Think.”
“I have.”
“You just said you didn’t want to know.”
“That was about what happened. Not about her.”
“How can you separate them?”
“I don’t know. I just can.”
She studied his face.
“Would you want a paternity test?”
“If you want one.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
He breathed out.
“Yes.”
The honesty hurt.
It also relieved her.
“Okay.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“I hate that I want it.”
“I’d hate you more if you lied.”
Evan nodded.
Claire looked down at her ring.
“I’m postponing the wedding.”
His eyes closed briefly.
“Okay.”
“You don’t get to say okay like this is reasonable.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know.”
“Neither do I.”
That was the first moment since the restaurant when Claire felt they were speaking to each other instead of negotiating damage.
She stood.
Evan stood too.
“Ten minutes,” she said.
“It’s been twelve.”
“Then you owe me two.”
He nodded.
Claire started toward the door.
“Claire?”
She turned.
“I’m not going to ask you to come home.”
“Good.”
“But I changed the sheets.”
She stared at him.
“What?”
“You hate when I leave them too long.”
A laugh escaped her.
She covered her face.
“God, Evan.”
“I know that was stupid.”
“It was.”
“Okay.”
“Stop saying okay.”
“Right.”
She went inside.
The next morning, Margaret called.
Claire answered.
Neither woman spoke for several seconds.
Then Margaret said, “I owe you an apology.”
Claire sat at Anna’s table.
“That sounds painful.”
“It is.”
“Good.”
Margaret exhaled.
“I behaved unforgivably.”
“Yes.”
“I was angry.”
“Yes.”
“I believed you had concealed something from Evan.”
“You believed a stranger you paid.”
“Yes.”
“And you decided that justified humiliating me.”
“No.”
Claire waited.
Margaret corrected herself.
“I decided it justified confronting you. I was wrong.”
“You wanted me gone.”
Silence.
“Didn’t you?”
Margaret’s voice changed.
Not softer exactly.
Older.
“I wanted certainty.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“No.”
Claire waited.
Margaret finally said, “I did not want my son raising a child conceived through deception.”
“Whose deception?”
“I didn’t know.”
“You assumed mine.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Margaret did not answer.
Claire already knew part of it.
Margaret had never trusted her completely.
Not because Claire had done anything dramatic.
Because Claire came from a family where people borrowed money, forgot birthdays, changed jobs, and occasionally parked cars on lawns during barbecues.
The Bennetts did not.
The Bennetts had calendars.
Portfolios.
Napkin rings.
Margaret had once asked Claire whether her sister’s bankruptcy was “a pattern in the family.”
Claire had answered that Anna had never declared bankruptcy.
Margaret had replied, “Not formally.”
“Why?” Claire asked again.
Margaret said, “Because Evan loves you more than he protects himself.”
May you like
Claire leaned back.
There it was.
