Chapter 3 - The Boy With My Father’s Eyes
I took Lauren’s phone before she could lock the screen.
She reached for it.
“Daniel, give it back.”
“No.”
“That’s my phone.”
“And apparently my entire life is in it.”
I opened the message.
My mother had sent it less than a minute earlier.
DO NOT LET HIM FIND THE PATERNITY REPORT.
Another message followed.
Lauren, answer me.
Then another.
If he sees what Claire mailed, everything changes.
I looked at Lauren.
“What paternity report?”
She covered her face.
Aunt Diane whispered, “Oh my God.”
“Lauren.”
“I never saw it.”
“But you knew it existed.”
She lowered her hands.
“I knew Claire had sent something.”
“How?”
“Your mother.”
“When?”
“Before we met.”
There it was again.
Before we met.
Every answer pulled our relationship farther away from the coincidence I believed it had been.
“Start at the beginning.”
Lauren shook her head.
“This isn’t the place.”
“We’re standing in my aunt’s spare bedroom surrounded by Christmas decorations. I assure you, there is no more appropriate place coming.”
“Daniel.”
“Start.”
Lauren sat on the edge of the bed.
Her voice became quiet.
“My father and your mother served together on the Hartwell Foundation board. I volunteered at several events.”
“I know that now.”
“About four years ago, Evelyn mentioned you.”
“Why?”
“She said her son had gone through a terrible divorce and moved to Toronto.”
“That doesn’t explain Claire.”
Lauren looked at the photograph in my hand.
“She told me your ex-wife claimed to be pregnant.”
Claimed.
I heard my mother’s language inside Lauren’s sentence.
“And?”
“She said Claire was manipulative. That she had tried to use a pregnancy to pull you back into the marriage.”
“You believed her.”
“I had no reason not to.”
“You had no reason to believe her either.”
“She was someone I respected.”
I laughed bitterly.
“So was I.”
Lauren looked down.
“A year later, your mother told me Claire had sent documentation saying the child was yours.”
My hands went cold.
“What documentation?”
“I don’t know. A test, maybe.”
“You knew my mother had proof I had a son?”
“I knew there was a report. I didn’t know whether it was legitimate.”
“Did you ever ask?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because by then you and I had started dating.”
The answer was so simple it was almost worse.
“You didn’t want to know.”
Lauren’s eyes filled again.
“I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“That if you found out, you would come back here.”
“To my child.”
“To Claire.”
I stared at her.
“That wasn’t your choice.”
“I know.”
“No. You know now.”
She wiped her face.
“I loved you.”
“Love doesn’t give you ownership of someone else’s truth.”
She flinched.
I picked up the photograph again.
Ethan Daniel Mercer.
Claire had given him my name.
Even after believing I had rejected him.
I wanted to sit down.
I wanted to hit something.
Instead, I asked the only question that mattered.
“Where is the report?”
Lauren shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
I looked at Diane.
She was staring at the empty envelope.
“Claire mailed this card to you?”
“Yes.”
“Could she have mailed something else?”
“Maybe.”
“Did Mom ever come here alone?”
Diane looked offended.
“Of course. She’s my sister.”
“Could she have taken something?”
Diane hesitated.
Then her expression changed.
“About four years ago.”
“What?”
“I was in Arizona helping Sarah after her surgery. Evelyn checked the house for me.”
“How long?”
“Two weeks.”
I looked at Lauren.
“She could have taken the photograph then.”
Diane nodded slowly.
“And anything Claire mailed.”
I put the photo in my wallet.
Then I drove back to LAX.
Claire’s shift might not have started.
It might have ended.
She might refuse to speak to me.
I deserved all of those possibilities.
I found her near Terminal 6 shortly after noon.
She was replacing a trash liner beside the seating area.
Ethan sat several yards away at a small table doing something in a workbook while another female employee kept an eye on him.
Claire saw me.
Her face closed.
“No.”
I stopped six feet away.
“I’m not here to cause trouble.”
“You need to leave.”
“My mother told me.”
Claire’s hands went still.
“About the pregnancy.”
Nothing.
“She admitted you came to the house.”
Claire looked toward Ethan.
Then back at me.
“She admitted she read your letter.”
Still nothing.
“She admitted she told you I knew.”
Claire’s face changed.
Not dramatically.
Her eyes simply became wet.
For five years, that woman had carried the belief that I had knowingly walked away from our son.
“I didn’t know,” I said.
Claire swallowed.
“I swear to you, I didn’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No. I expect you to doubt me. I would.”
“You moved to another country.”
“I thought you had come to tell me something about the divorce.”
“You never called.”
“I never got the letter.”
Claire stared at me.
“My mother hid it.”
Her mouth opened slightly.
“She told me you read it.”
“I know.”
“She told me you said the child wasn’t yours.”
My stomach turned.
“She said what?”
“She said you wanted a test after he was born.”
“I never said that.”
Claire looked away.
“I gave her one.”
“A test?”
“A legal paternity test.”
My knees weakened.
“When?”
“Ethan was four months old.”
“And the result?”
Claire looked at me.
“You know the result.”
“I need to hear you say it.”
“He’s yours.”
The noise of the terminal blurred.
I looked toward Ethan.
He was leaning over the workbook, tongue pressed against his lip in concentration.
My father used to do that while repairing watches at our kitchen table.
I had forgotten until that second.
“Can I see the report?”
“I don’t have the original.”
“Why?”
“I mailed it to you.”
“When?”
“Five years ago.”
“To Toronto?”
“To your mother’s house. She said she would forward it.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course she had.
“Did you keep a copy?”
“Yes.”
“Can I see it?”
Claire crossed her arms.
“Why?”
“Because I’ve lost five years. I need something in my hands that tells me I’m not losing my mind.”
Her face softened by perhaps one degree.
“He doesn’t know who you are.”
“I understand.”
“He thinks his father lives far away.”
“I did.”
“He thinks you weren’t ready to be a dad.”
I breathed through the pain.
“You told him that?”
“I told him something a five-year-old could survive.”
I nodded.
“Thank you.”
Claire looked surprised.
“For what?”
“For not telling him his father knew and didn’t care.”
Her jaw tightened.
“I wanted to.”
“I wouldn’t have blamed you.”
“I would have blamed myself.”
The answer broke something open inside me.
I glanced at Ethan again.
“Does he know my name?”
“Yes.”
“Has he seen pictures?”
“One.”
“Which?”
“Our wedding photo.”
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
“That’s a terrible picture.”
“It was the only one where you weren’t making a face.”
“I was happy.”
Claire looked at me.
“So was I.”
The words remained between us.
Five years.
A marriage.
A child.
A lie neither of us had created.
“I want to know him,” I said.
Claire immediately stiffened.
“Daniel.”
“I’m not asking to take him anywhere. I’m not asking you to trust me. I’m saying that if he’s my son, and if you believe it would not harm him, I want the chance to earn a place in his life.”
Her eyes searched mine.
“You’re getting married.”
“I know.”
“Does Lauren know you’re here?”
“She knew about Ethan before I did.”
Claire’s face went cold.
“What?”
“She knew my mother had hidden the pregnancy.”
Claire looked toward the floor.
“I knew I recognized her.”
“Where?”
Claire was silent.
“Claire.”
“She came to see me.”
My blood chilled.
“When?”
“Three years ago.”
“That’s when Lauren and I started dating.”
“I didn’t know that then.”
“What did she want?”
Claire folded her arms tighter.
“She said she was a family friend. She asked whether I intended to contact you.”
“What did you say?”
“I told her I had tried.”
“And?”
“She asked if I was still in love with you.”
I stared at her.
“What did you say?”
“That it was none of her business.”
Despite everything, that sounded exactly like Claire.
“She asked to see Ethan.”
“Why?”
“She said your mother wanted reassurance he was healthy.”
My anger returned.
“And you let her?”
“For thirty seconds. He was sleeping in a stroller.”
“So Lauren has seen my son.”
“Yes.”
“She lied yesterday.”
“Yes.”
I thought of Lauren standing beside me in the terminal.
What is she doing here?
Not who is she?
What is she doing here?
She had not been shocked to see Claire.
She had been shocked Claire was somewhere I might see her.
“Why were you at LAX yesterday?” I asked.
Claire gave me a tired look.
“I work here.”
“No. Why was Ethan here?”
“My childcare canceled.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
“So our meeting really was random.”
Claire hesitated.
“What?”
“Yesterday was random.”
“But?”
“Your return wasn’t.”
I felt a cold pressure behind my ribs.
“What does that mean?”
She looked toward Ethan.
Then toward me.
“Your mother knew when you were coming home.”
“Obviously.”
“So did Lauren.”
“Yes.”
“Three weeks ago, Lauren came here.”
My entire body went still.
“To the airport?”
“To see me.”
“What did she say?”
Claire’s voice dropped.
“She offered me money to transfer to another airport before you arrived.”
I stared at her.
“She what?”
“I refused.”
“How much?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
“She said she wanted to prevent unnecessary confusion before the wedding.”
My jaw tightened.
“And you didn’t tell me yesterday?”
“I didn’t even know whether you knew.”
“Claire.”
“I needed to know what kind of man you had become before I put Ethan anywhere near this.”
That hurt.
It also made perfect sense.
I nodded.
“You were right.”
Ethan looked up from the table.
“Mom?”
Claire immediately turned.
“I’m right here.”
The boy gathered his workbook and walked toward us.
Every step seemed impossibly loud.
He stopped beside Claire and looked up at me.
Close enough now, I saw his eyes.
Hazel.
Mine.
My father’s.
He looked at Claire.
“Is this the Daniel from the picture?”
Claire froze.
So did I.
She crouched slightly.
“Yes, sweetheart.”
Ethan considered me with the serious attention only children could give strangers.
Then he held out the workbook.
“I can write my whole name.”
My throat tightened.
“Can you?”
He opened it.
Across the top of the page, in uneven block letters, he had written:
ETHAN DANIEL MERCER.
I had to look away for a second.
When I looked back, Ethan was still studying me.
“Are you my dad?”
Claire inhaled sharply.
I crouched so I was closer to his height.
“I think that’s something your mom and I need to explain together.”
He nodded as if I had answered a math problem.
Then he looked at my face.
“My grandma said you didn’t want me.”
The air left my lungs.
Claire stood abruptly.
“What?”
Ethan looked confused.
“She came to school.”
Claire’s face drained of color.
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
I rose.
“What grandma?”
Ethan pointed toward the entrance.
I followed his hand.
My mother was walking across the terminal toward us.
But she wasn’t alone.
Beside her was a man carrying a black folder.
Claire saw him.
Her entire expression changed.
“No.”
I looked at her.
“Who is that?”
Claire stepped in front of Ethan.
“That’s the lawyer your mother used five years ago.”
The man opened the folder as he approached.
May you like
And the first document I saw had my signature on it.
A signature I had never written.
