Chương 7
He wanted Claire to have been threatened.
He wanted something large enough to explain the lie.
Instead, the documents described adults making imperfect decisions around two children who had already lived through instability.
Daniel read Claire’s declaration twice.
I am not seeking to replace the children’s existing maternal relationship. I am asking for the opportunity to know them at a pace recommended by their therapist.
The signature at the bottom was hers.
He recognized the narrow loop in the C.
Seven years ago, Claire had written that declaration while dating him.
On some evening close to it, she had probably eaten dinner at his apartment and listened to him complain about his upstairs neighbor.
Two lives had existed inches apart.
At eleven, the doorbell rang.
Daniel froze.
Claire had a key.
He opened the door.
A teenage girl stood on the porch.
Light-brown hair.
Green jacket.
Claire’s eyes.
Daniel knew her instantly.
“You’re Emma.”
She looked frightened but determined.
“Yes.”
He looked toward the street.
A dark SUV idled at the curb.
A man sat behind the wheel.
Mark.
Daniel’s body tightened.
“Does your father know you’re here?”
“He drove me.”
“That wasn’t exactly what I asked.”
Emma looked back at the SUV.
Then at Daniel.
“He knows I wanted to talk to you.”
Daniel rubbed a hand across his jaw.
“This isn’t a good idea.”
“I know.”
“Your mother told you not to.”
“She’s not my mother.”
The words came fast.
Then Emma winced.
Daniel said nothing.
“She is,” Emma corrected. “I mean biologically. Rachel was my mom.”
Daniel stepped onto the porch and pulled the door closed behind him.
“You shouldn’t be involved in whatever happens between Claire and me.”
“I already am.”
“That doesn’t mean you should be.”
“You found out because of me.”
“No. I found out because Claire lied.”
Emma looked down at the porch boards.
Daniel immediately wished he had phrased it differently.
“This isn’t your responsibility.”
“I asked for the pictures.”
“That still doesn’t make it your responsibility.”
She nodded, but he could tell she did not believe him.
For the first time Daniel saw sixteen instead of evidence.
There was chipped black polish on her thumbnail.
One sneaker lace had come undone.
She looked tired.
“Why did you come?” he asked.
Emma shoved her hands into her jacket pockets.
“Because she thinks you’re going to hate her.”
“That’s between us.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
Emma looked toward the SUV again.
“My dad hates her enough for everybody.”
Daniel followed her glance.
Mark did not look away.
“That seems complicated.”
“It is.”
Daniel almost told her she should go home.
Instead he asked, “Do you want water?”
She blinked.
“What?”
“I don’t know what teenagers drink.”
That got the smallest smile.
“Water is fine.”
Daniel opened the door.
Then stopped.
“No. Your father needs to come in too.”
Emma frowned.
“He won’t.”
“Then you don’t come in.”
She looked annoyed.
Good.
Annoyed was age-appropriate.
She pulled out her phone.
Thirty seconds later, Mark Ellison climbed from the SUV.
He was taller than Daniel expected.
The man from the photograph approached with both hands visible, as though coming toward a nervous animal.
“Daniel.”
Daniel disliked hearing his name from him.
“Mark.”
They did not shake hands.
“Emma insisted,” Mark said.
“I gathered.”
“I told her it was inappropriate.”
“She seems familiar with ignoring adult advice.”
“That part is genetic.”
Emma groaned.
“Dad.”
Mark’s mouth moved slightly.
Daniel recognized dry humor.
For one absurd second he wondered whether Claire had once loved that.
Then he hated himself for wondering.
They sat in the living room.
Emma took the armchair.
The men sat on opposite ends of the sofa.
Daniel did not offer coffee.
After a minute, Emma said, “This is worse than I thought.”
Mark looked at her.
“You wanted this.”
“I know.”
Daniel almost laughed.
The family resemblance was not only physical.
Emma looked at him.
“I just wanted you to know Claire didn’t contact me first.”
“I know.”
“She didn’t ask me to keep you secret.”
“I know.”
“She wanted to tell you.”
Daniel’s eyes shifted to her.
“She told you that?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Every time we met.”
Mark rubbed his forehead.
“Emma.”
“What?”
“We agreed you weren’t going to advocate for her.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Emma folded her arms.
“I’m explaining.”
Daniel looked at Mark.
“Did you know Claire hadn’t told me about them?”
Mark’s jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
“From the beginning?”
“From when Emma first contacted her.”
“And you were comfortable with that?”
“No.”
“Did you tell her to tell me?”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell me?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Mark looked at him directly.
“Because you were not my responsibility.”
Daniel absorbed that.
It was harsh.
Also true.
“My responsibility was my kids,” Mark continued. “I didn’t know you. I didn’t know if telling you would make their lives worse.”
“Did Claire ask you not to?”
“No.”
Emma shifted in the chair.
Daniel looked at her.
“You met Claire in March?”
“April.”
“How many times?”
“Six.”
Mark said, “Five.”
Emma frowned.
“The coffee shop counts.”
“You were there twelve minutes.”
“It still happened.”
Daniel rubbed his thumb across his knee.
“Six, apparently.”
Emma looked almost apologetic.
“Lucas only came to three.”
“Why?”
“He didn’t want to meet her.”
Mark’s expression changed.
Emma saw it.
“What? He didn’t.”
“I know.”
“He still kind of doesn’t.”
Daniel looked at Mark.
“Why the photograph?”
“Emma wanted it.”
“So Claire said.”
Mark nodded.
“I didn’t.”
“Want it?”
“No.”
“Then why were you there?”
Mark looked toward his daughter.
“Because she lost Rachel eleven months ago.”
Emma stared at the floor.
The room quieted.
Daniel suddenly noticed the refrigerator compressor turning off in the kitchen.
Mark continued.
“She wanted a picture with the people she came from. That’s how she put it.”
Emma wiped one thumb across her chipped nail polish.
“It sounded less stupid in my head.”
“It doesn’t sound stupid,” Daniel said.
She looked up.
He meant it.
May you like
Mark exhaled.
“I agreed to one session. Neutral place. No social media. No public posting.”
