Chương 15
The closer he came, the less clean those divisions became.
He remembered that Noah disliked being touched unexpectedly. He learned to bring two kinds of snacks because Ethan claimed not to be hungry and then ate everyone else’s. He attended Sophia’s science presentation and asked a question she later admitted was intelligent. He stood beside Patricia at Olivia’s first riding competition and did not attempt to take a family photograph.
He also arrived late, defended himself too quickly, and sometimes looked at the children with an expression of pride that made Kesha want to remind him he had not earned their accomplishments.
Once, after a school concert, another parent mistook him for an involved father and said, “You must be proud.”
Marcus answered, “I am.”
Kesha interrupted.
“You missed the first eight concerts.”
The parent stared at the floor.
Marcus’s face closed.
In the parking lot, he said, “Was that necessary?”
“No.”
“Then why did you say it?”
“Because you looked comfortable.”
He laughed without humor. “You cannot stand that.”
“No.”
“At least you admit it.”
“I am tired of being the only person who remembers the cost when you have a good afternoon.”
“I remember it every time I look at them.”
“Then why did you let that man believe you had been there?”
“He didn’t ask for a history.”
“You accepted the credit.”
“I said I was proud.”
“You sounded like a father.”
“I am their father.”
Kesha stepped closer.
“You are becoming one.”
The distinction hit him. For a moment she was glad.
Then Sophia came out of the school carrying her violin case. She stopped when she saw their faces.
“Are you fighting?”
“No,” Marcus said.
“Yes,” Kesha said at the same time.
Sophia sighed. “Can you do it later? I’m hungry.”
They ate pizza together because the other children had gone with Patricia and because neither adult wanted Sophia to feel she had caused a separation.
Marcus removed olives from his slice.
“You really hate them,” Sophia said.
“Yes.”
“Mom thought you were lying.”
“I did not think he was lying.”
“You stared at the olives.”
“I was surprised he remembered telling you.”
Marcus glanced at Kesha. “I remember things.”
“Selectively.”
Sophia put down her pizza. “You’re doing it again.”
They stopped.
She looked between them.
“I don’t need you to like each other. I need you not to make every room choose.”
The sentence stayed with Kesha.
In August, Claire contacted her.
They met at a quiet restaurant in Denver. Claire had cut her hair to her shoulders and no longer wore the diamond ring. She worked for an architecture firm and was preparing to move to Seattle.
“I almost called a hundred times,” she said.
“Why didn’t you?”
“I didn’t know whether I wanted to apologize or ask you to make me feel better.”
“What did you decide?”
“To return something.”
She placed a small envelope on the table.
Inside was a handwritten note from Marcus dated the night before the proposal. Claire had found it in a pocket of his suitcase months later when their belongings were finally separated.
The note was not addressed to her.
It contained three sentences.
If Kesha appears, Mother knows. Do not let Claire speak to her alone. Keep the children out of photographs until counsel advises.
Kesha read it twice.
“He knew you might come,” Claire said.
“He knew Patricia had contacted me.”
“He told me he had no idea.”
Kesha folded the note.
“Why give this to me?”
“Because he is rebuilding a relationship with the children, and I was afraid you would confuse effort with full honesty.”
Kesha looked at her.
“Are you trying to hurt him?”
“Yes,” Claire said. “A little.”
The answer felt like a gift.
Claire stirred her coffee.
“I loved him,” she said. “I still miss him when something funny happens. That is humiliating.”
“It is not.”
“It feels like it.”
“What will you do in Seattle?”
“Design hospitals.”
“Be careful. They make terrible clients.”
Claire smiled.
After lunch, Kesha called Marcus.
He arrived at her Denver office that evening. She placed the note between them.
He recognized it immediately.
“Where did you get this?”
“Claire.”
His jaw tightened.
“Is it authentic?” Kesha asked.
“Yes.”
“You knew we might come to the house.”
“I knew my mother had invited you. I did not know you had agreed.”
“You told me you were completely surprised.”
“I was surprised by the children.”
“You wrote instructions about the children.”
“I assumed you might bring them.”
“So the ring box fell because you saw their faces, not because you learned they existed.”
“Yes.”
The office windows reflected the city behind him. Kesha’s desk was covered with plans for a housing project in Sacramento. A mug held three pens and a broken pencil Olivia had refused to throw away.
“Why did you try to close the door?” Kesha asked.
Marcus looked at the note.
“Because Claire was there.”
“Not because the children were there.”
“Both.”
“You wanted them kept out of photographs.”
“Yes.”
“Your attorney had a strategy before I walked inside.”
“My attorney had contingencies.”
“You had contingencies. I had four children.”
Marcus sat down.
“What do you want me to do with this?”
“I don’t know.”
“Release it?”
“I could.”
“It will make no practical difference.”
“That is not true.”
“My board already removed me. My engagement ended. The settlement is final. The public knows I lied.”
“The children do not know you expected them.”
He looked up.
“Will you tell them?”
“I haven’t decided.”
Fear crossed his face.
Kesha noticed and disliked the power it gave her.
Marcus said, “I have not lied to them during the visits.”
“You let them believe the doorway was your first knowledge that they were alive and standing somewhere in the world.”
“I told them I knew they had been born.”
“You let them believe you had no idea we might arrive.”
“Does that distinction help them?”
May you like
“It helps you.”
He stood and walked to the window.
