Chương 9
He laughed.
Mara flinched.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t.”
She nodded.
Ethan looked at her face.
It was her.
Not a ghost.
Not memory.
A person who had aged while he mourned her.
“You watched us bury an empty casket.”
Mara’s eyes filled.
“I know.”
“Don’t say that.”
She swallowed.
“Victoria said the same thing.”
“Good.”
“I don’t know what I’m allowed to say.”
“You’re allowed to say anything. You’re just not protected from hearing what it sounds like.”
Mara looked at the table.
“I was sick.”
“So was Noah.”
Her face changed.
“You left a three-year-old.”
“I know.”
“Stop.”
She nodded quickly.
Ethan leaned back.
“Why now?”
“I got tired of being dead.”
He stared at her.
She rubbed her thumb over the sleeve covering her hand.
“That sounds selfish.”
“It is selfish.”
“I tried coming back before.”
“When?”
“Twice.”
His face hardened.
“Victoria stopped you?”
“No.”
That surprised him.
“I stopped myself.”
“Why?”
“Because every month made the previous month worse.”
Ethan said nothing.
Mara continued. “At first I told myself I needed to get sober before I came home. Then I told myself I needed enough money to repay what I took. Then I told myself I needed a lawyer. Then I thought if I waited until Noah was older he might understand.”
“Understand what?”
“That I was trying not to destroy his life.”
“You did destroy it.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Mara looked at him.
For the first time some anger appeared in her face.
“Yes.”
Ethan almost welcomed it.
“I wake up every day knowing exactly how long I have been gone.”
“Congratulations.”
“I’m not asking you to feel sorry for me.”
“Good.”
“I’m trying to answer you.”
He looked away.
A clock on the wall clicked loudly enough to be irritating.
“You were using again?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Before the crash. Almost a year.”
“And the foundation money?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Pills first. Then debt. Then covering the money I had already taken.”
Ethan pressed his tongue against his teeth.
“You could have come to me.”
“I thought you would take Noah.”
“I might have.”
Mara’s eyes dropped.
There.
A small honest cruelty.
Ethan felt it and did not retract it.
“I might have,” he repeated. “Because if you were stealing and using while caring for him, maybe I should have.”
Mara nodded.
“You’re right.”
“Don’t make me comfortable.”
“I’m not.”
They sat in silence.
Finally Ethan asked the question he had been avoiding.
“Who is Noah’s biological father?”
Mara did not move.
“That’s complicated.”
“No. It’s actually a very short question.”
“I don’t know.”
Ethan’s eyes narrowed.
“I was with someone while we were separated.”
“I know.”
Mara looked surprised.
“Victoria told me.”
Her mouth tightened.
“Of course she did.”
“Who?”
“His name was Owen Mercer.”
Ethan waited.
The name meant nothing.
“He worked with the architecture firm on the Seattle project.”
Ethan searched memory.
Faces.
A conference room.
A Christmas party.
Nothing.
“Does he know?”
“That we slept together? Yes.”
“That Noah may be his?”
Mara hesitated.
“Yes.”
Ethan’s chair moved backward an inch.
“Where is he?”
“Portland, last I heard.”
“Did he ever ask for Noah?”
“No.”
“Did you test?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I was terrified of the answer.”
Ethan looked at her.
Mara’s voice became smaller.
“You were his father.”
“Past tense?”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“No. I didn’t mean it that way.”
“You thought he might not be mine and said nothing.”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Since I knew I was pregnant.”
He stood.
The room tilted slightly.
Mara stood too.
“Ethan.”
“Sit down.”
She did.
He walked to the window.
Outside, deputies crossed a parking lot salted white at the edges.
One carried two coffees.
Someone laughed near a patrol car.
The world had the indecency to continue.
Ethan turned back.
“Did Victoria know before Noah was born?”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
That made the marriage worse in a way he had not yet understood how to measure.
“Why did she help you?”
Mara looked at him for a long time.
“Because she thought she could fix things.”
“That sounds like her.”
“She always thought damage became manageable if you controlled who knew.”
“Did she love me before you disappeared?”
Mara blinked.
“I don’t know.”
“Did you think she did?”
“Yes.”
Ethan looked away.
Mara continued before he could stop her.
“I think that was part of why I asked her.”
He stared.
“You asked the woman you thought loved me to help fake your death.”
Mara gave a miserable half smile.
“When you say it like that—”
“How else would I say it?”
“I wasn’t thinking like a person with good judgment.”
“No kidding.”
The humor died immediately.
Mara pulled her sleeve farther over her hand.
“I thought if I disappeared, you’d have Noah. He’d have stability. Victoria would help. I would get clean somewhere nobody knew me.”
“And if you didn’t?”
She looked at him.
“I didn’t think that far.”
That answer, more than almost anything, sounded true.
Ethan sat again.
“Did you want to die?”
Mara’s face changed.
“No.”
“Ever?”
She looked at the tissue box.
“A few times.”
He breathed out slowly.
He had not expected compassion.
It arrived anyway and made him angry.
He hated that another person’s suffering could remain real even after they destroyed you.
Mara wiped her cheek with the heel of her hand.
“I’m not saying that to excuse anything.”
“I know.”
For once the phrase did not anger him.
He looked at her.
“What do you want from Noah?”
Mara’s breathing became uneven.
“To see him.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
She closed her eyes.
When she opened them, she said, “I want a chance to become someone he might choose to know.”
Ethan studied her.
That was different from asking to be his mother again.
He appreciated the difference and resented himself for appreciating it.
“He’s six.”
“I know.”
“He remembers you mostly from videos.”
“I know.”
May you like
“He asks why you left him whenever somebody says the word crash.”
Mara put one hand over her mouth.
