Chapter 8 - the secret claire kept for five years)
Ryan walked away before anger made him say something he could never take back.
He stood beside the window, hands shaking.
"Five years."
"Ryan."
"You watched me raise Ethan while knowing I might have another child somewhere."
"I didn't know."
"You suspected."
"Sarah denied it."
"And you believed her?"
"I wanted to."
The honesty of those words hurt more than any lie.
Ryan turned.
"Why were you talking to her?"
Claire sat on the edge of the bed.
"Because after we reconciled, I couldn't stop wondering about her."
"You contacted her?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"About five years ago."
Ryan felt sick.
Claire continued.
"I asked if anything had happened between you."
"You knew something happened."
"You told me you kissed her."
Ryan nodded.
During their separation, Ryan and Sarah had gone further than he had initially admitted.
One night.
One terrible, lonely night.
He had confessed before reconciling with Claire.
Or believed he had confessed everything.
Claire looked at him.
"Sarah told me she had a daughter but said the father was someone else."
"And you accepted that?"
"The dates were close."
Ryan ran both hands over his face.
"Did you ever see Lily?"
"Only photographs."
"You saw photographs of my daughter."
"I didn't know she was yours."
"But you wondered."
"Yes."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Claire looked toward the hallway where Ethan and Lily were packing.
"Because I was afraid."
"Of what?"
"That you'd leave."
Ryan stared at her.
She continued before he could interrupt.
"We had just repaired our marriage. Ethan was two. You were finally happy again. I told myself Sarah would contact you if Lily was yours."
"But she didn't."
"No."
"So you chose silence."
"Yes."
Ryan looked at his wedding ring.
For thirteen years that ring had meant certainty.
Now it felt like evidence.
Claire whispered, "I'm sorry."
He did not answer.
A knock sounded downstairs.
Detective Ruiz.
They needed to leave.
The safe house was an old farmhouse owned by the state two hours west of Boston.
Two officers remained outside.
No phones except those supplied by Ruiz.
No internet.
No visitors.
Lily loved the backyard.
For the first time since entering Ryan's life, she ran.
Ethan followed her through dead autumn leaves.
Ryan watched from the porch.
Claire came outside.
"They look like they've always known each other."
Ryan said nothing.
"Ethan adores her."
"He has a sister."
Claire flinched.
Ryan realized how harshly he had said it.
But he could not apologize yet.
That night Detective Ruiz arrived with DNA results.
She placed the envelope on the table.
"Ryan."
He stared at it.
Claire sat across from him.
Lily and Ethan were upstairs.
Ryan opened the envelope.
Probability of paternity: 99.9998 percent.
He read it twice.
Then a third time.
"My daughter."
Claire began crying silently.
Ryan did not.
Not yet.
He walked upstairs.
Lily was sitting on the floor drawing beside Ethan.
She looked up.
Ryan crouched.
"Remember when you asked if I was really your daddy?"
Lily nodded.
Ryan's voice broke.
"I am."
She stared at him.
"Really?"
"Really."
For several seconds she remained still.
Then she threw her arms around his neck.
Ryan held her.
And finally cried.
Ethan joined them.
The three remained on the floor until Lily fell asleep against Ryan's chest.
Later, Claire found him alone in the kitchen.
"I know you hate me."
Ryan shook his head.
"I don't know what I feel."
"I deserve that."
"You protected her last week."
Claire nodded.
"And you failed her for five years."
Claire closed her eyes.
"Yes."
Ryan stared outside.
"Both things can be true."
Claire whispered, "I love her."
"You barely know her."
"I loved her before I met her because I knew there was a chance she was yours."
Ryan looked at her.
"Then why hide her?"
"Because loving someone doesn't always make people brave."
Ryan did not forgive her.
But for the first time, he understood.
Ruiz returned the following morning.
They had found something in Gavin's apartment.
A photograph.
Sarah.
Gavin.
And another man.
The photograph was eleven years old.
Ryan picked it up.
The third man was older, gray-haired, smiling.
Ryan recognized him immediately.
His father.
Thomas Carter.
On the back someone had written three words.
Meridian starts Monday.
Ryan looked at Ruiz.
"My father knew Gavin before I did."
Ruiz nodded.
"By at least three years."
Ryan stared at the photograph.
Thomas Carter had introduced Ryan to Gavin in college.
Or so Ryan remembered.
May you like
Suddenly another possibility appeared.
Maybe their friendship had never been accidental.
