Chương 4
The sentence hurt more than the lie.
Michael bent forward, elbows on his knees.
“You wanted.”
Claire flinched.
Daniel stared into the fire.
Michael said, “Did you tell him you were pregnant?”
Claire did not answer.
Daniel did.
“She called me.”
Michael lifted his head.
Daniel’s face was rigid.
“She said you two were back together. She said she was pregnant. I asked.”
“And?”
“She said the timing made you the father.”
Michael looked at Claire.
“You knew the timing didn’t prove that.”
“I was terrified.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“No. I didn’t know.”
Margaret interrupted.
“She knew enough to tell me.”
Michael turned toward his mother.
“And you knew enough to keep it from me.”
Margaret stiffened.
“Claire had just given birth. She was frightened. You were ecstatic. Emma was healthy. I thought—”
“You thought what?”
“That destroying all of you in a hospital room would not help a newborn.”
Michael stood.
“Great. Good choice. What about the next day?”
Margaret’s lips pressed together.
“The next week?”
Silence.
“The next year?”
“Michael.”
“Eight Christmases, Mom.”
She looked away.
“Eight birthdays.”
“I know.”
“You came to her kindergarten play.”
“I know.”
“You watched me teach her to ride a bike.”
Margaret’s voice sharpened.
“And what exactly would you have had me do?”
He stared at her.
“The truth.”
“To a four-year-old?”
“To me.”
Claire stood.
“I asked her not to.”
Michael looked at her.
Margaret said, “She begged me.”
“That makes this better?”
“No.”
For the first time, Margaret’s certainty vanished completely.
“I was wrong.”
Michael laughed again, but there was no energy in it now.
Daniel stepped closer to the coffee table.
“I want a test.”
Claire’s head snapped up.
Michael looked at him.
Daniel met his eyes.
“I’m not claiming anything tonight. You’re right. We don’t know. But I want to know.”
Claire whispered, “Daniel.”
He looked at her.
“What?”
“You can’t just—”
“I can ask.”
“She’s eight.”
“I know how old she is.”
“You don’t know her.”
His face tightened.
“That would be the problem, wouldn’t it?”
Michael held up a hand.
“Enough.”
Neither moved.
He looked at Claire.
“Tomorrow you and I are leaving with Emma.”
She nodded immediately.
“Okay.”
“You’re sleeping in another room tonight.”
A flicker of pain crossed her face.
“Okay.”
“Do not talk to Emma about paternity without me there.”
Her expression hardened slightly.
“She’s my daughter too.”
“I’m aware.”
“You don’t get to—”
“I’m not trying to own her. I’m trying to stop adults from dropping more explosives in her lap because they need relief from their own guilt.”
Claire went silent.
Michael looked at Daniel.
“You want a test, we’ll discuss it after Emma gets home and gets through the next couple of days.”
Daniel’s nostrils flared.
“I’ve already lost eight years if she’s mine.”
“And she just lost the shape of her family in ten seconds.”
Daniel looked away.
Michael’s voice softened despite himself.
“This is not about who has waited longest.”
Daniel nodded once.
Margaret said, “Michael—”
He turned.
She stopped.
He pointed toward the red velvet box.
“You never touch her with that secret again.”
Margaret’s face folded in a way he had never seen.
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t.”
He went upstairs.
At three in the morning, he woke in the chair beside Emma’s bed with a cramp running from his shoulder to his elbow.
Emma was awake.
She lay on her back staring at the ceiling.
“How long?” he whispered.
“I don’t know.”
He rubbed his face.
“Need water?”
“No.”
“Bathroom?”
“No.”
“Bad dream?”
“No.”
He waited.
“Did Mom cheat on you?”
Michael stared into the darkness.
“Where did you hear that word?”
“Madison’s parents.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“She said her dad cheated and now he lives in an apartment with a pool.”
Michael almost smiled.
“Your mom and I were separated when she was with Daniel.”
“So she didn’t cheat?”
“It’s more complicated than that.”
“Everything is complicated tonight.”
“That is fair.”
She turned her head.
“Did you sleep in the chair because you were scared I’d wake up?”
“Yes.”
“Or because you don’t want to sleep with Mom?”
Michael hesitated.
“Both.”
Emma accepted that.
After a moment she said, “I don’t want a DNA.”
“A DNA test?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.”
“You said Daniel wants one.”
“He does.”
“I don’t.”
Michael shifted carefully.
“You don’t have to decide tonight.”
“What if I say no forever?”
He looked at her.
She was gripping the quilt under her chin.
“We’ll talk about it when you’re less scared.”
“That means you think I’ll change my mind.”
“It means I think eight-year-olds should not have to make forever decisions at three in the morning.”
She stared at the ceiling again.
“Can I have my phone?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s three in the morning.”
“I might need to Google something.”
“That is exactly why you cannot have your phone.”
“What if Google knows who my dad is?”
Michael leaned his head against the chair.
“If Google knows, I’m moving to a cabin with no electricity.”
“Grandma’s lodge is kind of a cabin.”
“This place has heated bathroom floors.”
Emma considered that.
“Fancy cabin.”
“Go to sleep.”
At breakfast nobody sat in the same places they usually did.
Margaret made eggs because cooking gave her a way not to speak.
Claire drank coffee she did not finish.
Daniel remained upstairs until Michael had packed the car.
Emma wore sweatpants and Michael’s oversized college sweatshirt over her party dress because she refused to change out of either.
The combination looked ridiculous.
Michael loved it.
When Daniel finally appeared near the mudroom, Emma stopped zipping her coat.
He kept six feet between them.
“Hi.”
She looked at him.
“Hi.”
Daniel swallowed.
“I’m sorry about last night.”
“For what?”
The question caught him.
“All of it.”
“You didn’t slap Mom.”
“No.”
“You didn’t open the box.”
“No.”
“You said you’re my dad.”
Daniel glanced at Michael.
Michael did not rescue him.
May you like
Daniel crouched but not too close.
“I shouldn’t have said it like I knew for sure.”
