Chương 3
She knew the line Amelia used whenever Daniel drove too fast.
You’re not important enough to die dramatically.
She knew Lily’s middle name came from Amelia’s grandmother.
She cried at the right moments.
She stopped crying at the right moments too.
That had mattered.
Fake grief, Daniel later learned, was often performed too consistently.
Vivienne had not performed consistently.
Sometimes she seemed numb. Sometimes irritated. Once, while Daniel was crying, she asked if he still had the blue coffee mugs because she remembered hating them.
It had been so ordinary.
So Amelia.
She claimed the woman who had died five years earlier after a car went through a guardrail in Northern California was not her.
Daniel had identified the body from jewelry, clothing, dental information supplied through an old family file, and what remained of a face he had loved for nine years.
The accident had involved fire.
There had been mistakes.
Vivienne told him there had been a second woman in the car.
She said she had survived with injuries, confusion, and long periods she could barely explain. Some parts of the story sounded impossible. Other parts sounded like the sort of medical nightmare people later turned into magazine articles.
Daniel hired a private physician.
Then an attorney.
Then a testing laboratory.
He did not tell Lily.
Not at first.
A cheek-swab comparison came back showing an overwhelming biological relationship consistent with maternity.
The genetic counselor included qualifications Daniel barely absorbed.
He heard only one sentence.
The woman could be Lily’s biological mother.
On the third day, he let her meet his daughter.
Lily listened without interrupting.
When he reached that part, she asked, “Did you ask if she had a sister?”
Daniel could not answer immediately.
“No.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t know there was one.”
“But people have sisters.”
“Yes.”
“Mom had one.”
“Yes.”
“You just didn’t know.”
“That’s right.”
Lily looked down.
“Did Mom lie?”
Daniel’s mouth went dry.
“I think she kept something from me.”
“That means lie.”
Sometimes six-year-olds had an unbearable respect for definitions.
Daniel nodded.
“Yes.”
Lily pulled the blanket higher.
“When did you know?”
“This afternoon.”
“Before the fire thing?”
“Before the flare.”
“What time?”
Daniel glanced at his watch out of habit and hated himself for it.
“A little after three.”
It was now almost seven.
Lily saw the answer on his face before he spoke.
“A few hours.”
“You knew a few hours.”
“I knew there was another woman named Vivienne Mercer who was born seven minutes after your mother.”
“Seven?”
“Yes.”
“Then you knew.”
“I knew there was a sister. I didn’t know yet if the woman with us was definitely her.”
Lily frowned.
“But she was.”
“Yes.”
“How did you find out?”
“A man I hired found records.”
“What kind?”
“Birth records. School records. An old court file. A photograph.”
“Of both?”
“Yes.”
“Same face?”
“Almost.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
That was the question Daniel had been avoiding since the corridor.
He looked at his daughter.
“Because I was ashamed.”
Lily blinked.
He went on before he lost nerve.
“I had told you she was your mom. You believed me because I’m your dad. Then I started thinking I might be wrong, and I wanted to fix it before you knew I’d made the mistake.”
“You wanted to hide it.”
“Yes.”
“From me.”
“Yes.”
Her mouth trembled.
Daniel moved toward her.
Lily pulled her feet farther beneath herself.
He stopped.
The yacht gave a long, quiet creak.
Outside the window, the sun had nearly disappeared. The ocean looked black except where the wake caught the remaining light.
Lily whispered, “Did you pay her?”
Daniel’s stomach tightened.
“Yes.”
She looked up.
For the first time since the flare, real fear moved across her face.
Daniel lifted both hands.
“Not for what she said.”
Lily stared.
“I need you to listen to all of it.”
“You paid her.”
“I offered her money.”
“How much?”
He did not want to answer.
That was enough of an answer for her.
“How much?”
“Two hundred fifty thousand dollars.”
Lily’s eyes widened.
She understood that two hundred fifty thousand was enormous without understanding exactly how enormous.
“What for?”
“To leave.”
“Me?”
“To leave us alone.”
“She said—”
“I know what she said.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“After I got the information this afternoon, I confronted her downstairs. I told her I knew about Vivienne. She denied it. Then she stopped denying it.”
Lily’s fingers went still.
“What did she say?”
“That she had reasons.”
“What reasons?”
“She wouldn’t tell me.”
“That’s dumb.”
“Yes.”
“What did you do?”
“I told her we were turning around.”
“But we didn’t.”
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
Daniel looked toward the darkening windows.
This was the part that made the whole thing uglier.
“I didn’t call the captain right away.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought I could make her go quietly.”
“With money.”
“Yes.”
Lily looked disgusted.
“You always say not to give people money when they’re being bad.”
Daniel almost smiled despite himself.
“I believe the phrase I use is not to reward bad behavior.”
“You rewarded giant bad behavior.”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“She asked if I really wanted you to find out I’d brought a stranger into our house and told you she was your mother.”
Lily flinched.
Daniel hated Vivienne again for the sentence, then hated himself because the sentence was true.
“She said if I paid her, she would leave as soon as we docked and never contact us again.”
“And you believed that too?”
The question landed cleanly.
Daniel sat back.
“No.”
“Then why?”
“I wanted it to be enough.”
“That’s not believing.”
“No.”
“What is it?”
He stared at his hands.
“Being scared.”
Lily’s face softened for half a second.
Then the hurt returned.
“You’re a grown-up.”
“Yes.”
“You still get scared?”
“Yes.”
“More than kids?”
“Sometimes.”
She seemed offended by this information.
The door opened.
Nora stepped in.
“Harbor Patrol wants everyone separated until we dock. Captain’s orders too.”
May you like
Daniel stood.
“I’m staying with Lily.”
