Chapter 7: The Son Their Fathers Hid
For several seconds, Daniel looked as though he hadn't understood the words.
Then he laughed.
It wasn't a happy sound. It was the kind of laugh people make when something is so terrible that their minds refuse to accept it.
“That's impossible,” he said.
Vanessa stood beside the kitchen island, twisting a tissue between her fingers.
“I'm telling you what Claire told me.””
“My father was married to my mother for thirty-eight years.””
“I know.””
“He raised me. He taught me to drive. He sat beside my hospital bed when I broke my arm. He coached my Little League team, and he walked me down the aisle at my wedding.””
Daniel's voice cracked.
“You're telling me all of that was a lie?””
“No,” I said quickly, moving toward him.
“Daniel, listen to me. Even if what Vanessa says is true, none of those things becomes a lie.””
He turned toward me.
“How can you say that?””
“Because Dad was still your father. Whatever happened before you were born doesn't change who raised you.””
Daniel looked away.
For a moment, I thought he might break something.
Instead, he gripped the back of a chair and lowered his head.
Vanessa quietly placed the tissue on the counter.
“Claire said your father discovered the truth when you were a teenager. She said he confronted your mother, but they decided to keep it within the family.””
I stared at her.
“How would Claire know that?””
“She found some letters among the estate documents. She said there were references to a private arrangement between your father and Marcus's father.””
Daniel straightened.
“What arrangement?””
“I don't know.””
“You keep saying that.””
“Because I don't know, Daniel! Claire showed me only one page. It mentioned a trust and a property. She said the documents could change everything if she could prove that you weren't entitled to inherit.””
Daniel looked at the letter from his father.
The words especially not someone who believes money can purchase a place in this family seemed to burn on the page.
“What property?”” he asked.
Vanessa shook her head.
“She called it the Hawthorne property. That's all I know.””
I recognized the name.
Our father had once mentioned Hawthorne during a family dinner, years before he died. I'd assumed it was an old business property he'd sold.
When I mentioned it, Daniel looked up sharply.
“Dad told us about Hawthorne?””
“Not much. He said he'd spent time there when he was younger.””
Daniel turned back to Vanessa.
“Where are the original documents?””
“Claire has them.””
“Where?””
“I don't know.””
He slammed his palm against the table.
Vanessa jumped.
Daniel immediately stepped back, breathing hard.
“I'm sorry,” he said.
“I'm not angry at you for answering my questions. I'm angry because every time I think I've reached the bottom, someone tells me there's another floor beneath it.””
Vanessa nodded.
“I understand.””
“No, you don't.””
He looked at her.
“My wife lied about carrying my child. She slept with my best friend. She stole money from my father's trust. Now you're telling me that she used some secret about my family to build a financial plan around me.””
His eyes filled.
“And I don't even know whether my father was the man I thought he was.””
Vanessa lowered her gaze.
“I can't answer that.””
“Then we're finished here.””
He pointed toward the front door.
Vanessa gathered her papers.
Before leaving, she placed a business card on the counter.
“This is the attorney Claire used. His name is Robert Hensley. If you want the original estate file, he may be able to tell you where it is.””
Daniel didn't take the card.
Vanessa walked out.
The front door closed behind her.
For a long time, Daniel stood in the kitchen, staring at nothing.
Then he picked up his phone.
“I'm calling Marcus.””
I touched his arm.
“Are you sure that's a good idea?””
“No. But I'm doing it anyway.””
He dialed.
Marcus answered on the second ring.
“Daniel?””
“Is your father alive?””
Silence.
Then Marcus said, “Yes.””
“Did he know my father?””
“Yes.””
“Did they have some kind of arrangement concerning me?””
Marcus stopped breathing audibly for a moment.
“Where did you hear that?””
Daniel closed his eyes.
“Answer the question.””
“I don't know the details.””
“Did you know there was a possibility we were related?””
Marcus's voice dropped.
“My father mentioned something years ago. I thought he was talking about a business dispute.””
“What exactly did he say?””
“He said that you and I had a connection neither of us understood, and that if we ever found out the truth, it could destroy both families.””
Daniel sat down.
“What?””
“I was seventeen. My father was drinking. He told me never to confuse friendship with blood.””
Daniel stared at the table.
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“Because I thought he was being dramatic. I forgot about it until Claire started asking questions.””
My brother's head lifted.
“Claire asked you about my family?””
“Yes.””
“When?””
“About six months ago. She said she was helping you organize your father's estate documents. She asked whether my father had ever mentioned a property called Hawthorne.””
Daniel's expression hardened.
“What did you tell her?””
“I told her what I just told you. That my father had made a strange comment years earlier.””
“And then?””
“She asked me to speak to him.””
Daniel stood again.
“You helped her investigate my parentage?””
“No! I didn't know that's what she was doing.””
“You took her to the hospital. You helped her fake a pregnancy. You helped her hide money. And now you're telling me she asked you about my father six months ago?””
Marcus sounded desperate.
“I swear I didn't know what she intended to do with the information.””
“Then why didn't you tell me she was asking questions?””
“Because I was afraid you'd find out about the affair.””
Daniel laughed bitterly.
“So you protected yourself.””
“Yes.””
At least Marcus had finally stopped pretending otherwise.
Daniel ended the call.
He sat silently for several seconds.
Then he opened his contacts and found the number for his father's estate attorney.
I watched him press the call button.
A receptionist answered.
“Good evening, Hensley and Associates.””
“My name is Daniel Carter. My father was Robert Carter. He died two years ago.””
“Of course, Mr. Carter.””
“I need to speak with someone about his estate. Specifically, a file concerning the Hawthorne property.””
The receptionist paused.
“May I ask what this concerns?””
“My wife may have accessed documents she wasn't authorized to see.””
“I understand. Let me check whether Mr. Hensley is available.””
A few minutes passed.
Then a man's voice came through the phone.
“Daniel, this is Robert Hensley. I'm sorry to hear you're dealing with a difficult situation.””
Daniel glanced at me.
“I need to know whether my father left a letter concerning my biological parentage.””
There was a long silence.
Then the attorney said, “I was hoping we wouldn't have this conversation over the telephone.””
Daniel's face went white.
“You knew?””
“I knew your father had left confidential instructions regarding a family matter.””
“What family matter?””
“I can't discuss the details without reviewing the file and confirming certain legal requirements.””
“Mr. Hensley, my wife has been stealing money from my father's trust. She has been investigating something about my family, and I have reason to believe she intends to use it against me.””
The attorney exhaled.
“Then I suggest you come to my office first thing tomorrow morning. Bring identification and any documents you have received.””
“Was my father my biological father?””
The attorney didn't answer.
“Mr. Hensley?””
“Daniel, I don't want to give you an incomplete answer that causes you further distress. Your father left instructions that I was to explain the matter to you personally if certain circumstances arose.””
“What circumstances?””
“His letter specifically mentioned the possibility of someone attempting to challenge your inheritance.””
Daniel gripped the phone.
“Did he name Claire?””
“No.””
“But he anticipated this.””
“Yes.””
Daniel closed his eyes.
“Tomorrow morning. I'll be there.””
He ended the call.
For the first time since the baby shower, I saw something besides grief in his expression.
Fear.
Not fear of losing money or his marriage.
Fear that the people he loved had known something about him that he hadn't known himself.
I moved beside him.
“Whatever that attorney tells you, you don't have to figure it out tonight.””
Daniel looked at me.
“What if Dad knew my entire life was built on a lie?””
“Then we find out why he kept it from you.””
He shook his head.
“And what if Mom knew, too?””
Neither of us spoke.
My mother had been married to our father for decades. If there had been an affair, if Daniel had been conceived by another man, if our father had known, then our mother's silence might mean something different from what we understood.
Or it might mean nothing at all.
Daniel picked up his keys.
“I'm going to see Marcus's father.””
I stood.
“Now?””
“He's the only person who might know the truth.””
“Daniel, it's nearly midnight.””
“I don't care.””
He headed toward the front door.
I followed him to the porch.
Before he climbed into his truck, I caught his hand.
“Don't let Claire decide who your father was.””
He looked at me for a long moment.
Then he nodded.
“I won't.””
He drove away.
I returned inside and locked the door.
The house was quiet.
Upstairs, Sophie was asleep in the guest bedroom, clutching the stuffed rabbit she'd brought to Daniel's house.
I stood beside her bed, watching her breathe.
She had exposed a lie without understanding what it would uncover.
I wished, with everything in me, that the lie had ended with the fake pregnancy.
At 11:47 p.m., my phone rang.
It was Daniel.
I answered immediately.
“What happened?””
His breathing was ragged.
“I found him.””
“Marcus's father?””
“Yes.””
“Did he tell you the truth?””
Daniel was silent.
Then he said, “He showed me a photograph.””
“What photograph?””
“One of Dad holding a baby.””
I sat on the edge of Sophie's bed.
“Okay.””
Daniel's voice broke.
“The baby was me.””
I swallowed.
“Daniel…”
“But that's not what frightened me.””
“What do you mean?””
He took a shaky breath.
“Someone wrote a name on the back of the photograph.””
“Whose name?””
May you like
He answered in a whisper.
“Claire's mother's.””
