Chương 10
She closed them.
Emily stood.
“If you can’t even give me that, I’m done.”
“Emily.”
“I mean it.”
Laura stared at her daughter.
Then she whispered a name.
“Sarah.”
Emily did not move.
Laura’s voice shook.
“Your name was Sarah.”
The lodge seemed suddenly very quiet.
Emily repeated it once.
“Sarah.”
Laura nodded.
“Sarah Hale?”
Laura hesitated.
“On the records, yes.”
Emily looked down at herself as if something physical might have changed.
“Did you call me that?”
“For six months.”
“And then?”
“I started calling you Emily before we met Daniel.”
Daniel frowned.
“Why Emily?”
Laura looked at him.
“You told me once, the first night we met, that if you ever had a daughter you liked the name.”
Daniel stared.
“You named her for me before telling me she was mine.”
“Yes.”
He sat back.
“That is unbelievably manipulative.”
“I know.”
“And somehow weirdly sweet.”
Laura laughed through tears.
“I know.”
“Stop saying—”
He stopped himself.
Emily smiled despite everything.
For thirty seconds, no one was furious.
Then Bell crossed the room.
“I have an update.”
Daniel muttered, “Of course you do.”
Bell looked at Laura.
“The old file contains a photograph of your husband.”
Laura’s expression closed.
Emily glanced toward the Polaroid.
“Is it the same man?”
Bell did not answer immediately.
Laura’s face had gone white.
Emily noticed.
“Mom.”
Bell said, “I compared the available image with the man in the Polaroid.”
Daniel stepped closer.
“And?”
“They appear to be different people.”
Emily stared at the evidence sleeve.
The damaged man beside Laura and the baby.
Not the husband.
Her voice barely worked.
“Then who is he?”
Laura closed her eyes.
Bell said nothing.
Daniel looked at his wife.
“This is the father.”
Laura opened her eyes.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Emily stepped backward.
“No.”
Laura reached toward her.
Emily recoiled.
Laura stopped.
“Emily.”
“Is he my biological father?”
Laura’s face broke.
Daniel saw the answer before she gave it.
But she still did not give it.
“I need to explain that carefully.”
Emily laughed, furious again.
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it matters.”
“Everything matters!”
“I know.”
“Then tell me.”
Laura looked toward Bell.
Bell said, “This part is yours.”
Laura’s hands trembled.
Daniel watched her.
“Is there a reason she can’t tell us who he is?”
Laura whispered, “Yes.”
“Danger?”
“Yes.”
“To Emily?”
Laura hesitated.
“To everyone.”
O’Connell straightened from across the room.
Bell’s expression sharpened.
“Current danger?”
“I don’t know.”
“You need to stop saying that,” Emily said.
Laura turned toward her daughter.
“I haven’t seen him in eighteen years.”
“The man in the picture?”
“Yes.”
“Is he alive?”
“I don’t know.”
“What’s his name?”
Laura shook her head.
Emily’s face hardened.
“No.”
“Please.”
“No. You gave me Sarah. Give me this.”
Laura stared at her.
“I can’t.”
Emily grabbed her coat from the chair.
Daniel stood.
“Where are you going?”
“Outside.”
“Road’s still—”
“I’m not driving to Canada, Dad. I need air.”
O’Connell said, “Stay under the awning.”
Emily nodded.
Daniel followed.
She turned.
“I want to be alone.”
He stopped.
“Okay.”
Emily stepped outside.
The storm had become ordinary snow.
Morning had begun as a pale gray line behind the pine trees.
She stood beneath the checkpoint awning and watched a plow push dirty snow toward the shoulder.
A worker in an orange jacket drank coffee from a thermos.
Someone laughed near the maintenance garage.
It felt obscene that strangers could have normal mornings.
Emily took out her phone.
Bell had returned it after determining there was no immediate need to hold it.
She opened her contacts.
MOM.
DAD.
She stared at the names.
Then at her own.
EMILY MERCER.
For the first time it looked like something somebody had chosen rather than something she simply was.
Sarah Hale.
She typed the name into a blank search field.
Her thumb hovered above the screen.
Then she closed it.
Not because Laura had asked her to.
Because she wanted her first act with the truth to belong to her.
Daniel came outside after several minutes.
He stood ten feet away.
Emily looked at him.
“You can come closer.”
He did.
They watched the plow.
“Do you want a DNA test?” he asked.
Emily thought.
“Not today.”
“Okay.”
“Do you?”
Daniel put his hands in his pockets.
“I want one and I don’t.”
“Helpful.”
“I contain multitudes.”
“You contain dad jokes.”
“That too.”
She looked toward the lodge.
“Are you going to stay with her?”
Daniel watched snow falling from the awning.
“I don’t know.”
Emily nodded.
“Do you hate her?”
He considered that more seriously.
“No.”
“You’re really mad.”
“I can hate what someone did without hating them.”
Emily kicked a small ridge of snow.
“I think I hate her a little.”
“That’s allowed.”
“She saved me, didn’t she?”
Daniel looked at her.
“We don’t know.”
“She ran with me.”
“Yes.”
“She changed my name.”
“Yes.”
“She spent eighteen years terrified somebody would find us.”
“Apparently.”
Emily swallowed.
“What if everything she did was because she loved me?”
Daniel’s face tightened.
“Love doesn’t make every choice right.”
“I know.”
“She may have had good reasons.”
“I know.”
“And she still hurt us.”
Emily looked at him.
“You’re really trying to be fair.”
“I’m trying not to say something I’ll spend twenty years apologizing for.”
“That’s mature.”
“It’s exhausting.”
She leaned against him.
Daniel wrapped one arm around her.
They stood that way until the cold reached through their coats.
Inside, Laura watched them through a narrow gap in the blackout shade.
Bell stood beside her.
“You should let them be.”
“I am.”
“You’re watching.”
“I have been watching that child breathe since the day she was born.”
Bell said nothing.
Laura closed the shade.
“What happens now?”
Bell considered.
“That depends on what the archived records show and what you decide to tell us.”
“I need a lawyer.”
“Yes.”
“I also need to know whether anyone connected to the old case has been notified.”
May you like
Bell nodded.
“I’m checking.”
