He never cried.
“What did he tell you?” I asked.
“He said he had made a mistake a long time before he met you.”
“What mistake?”
“He wouldn’t say.”
“Of course.”
“He said Rebecca paid the price for it.”
A cold sensation crawled along my arms.
“Did your father have a child with her?”
Emily inhaled sharply.
“I asked him that.”
“And?”
“He said no.”
I looked down at Daniel’s photograph.
Warm brown eyes.
Dark hair.
He had told me he was forty-two.
Michael would have been seventy now.
Possible, I thought.
Too possible.
“Do you believe him?”
“I did.”
“Did?”
“Mom…”
“What?”
“I’ve seen pictures of Daniel.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“Before last night?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He looks like Dad.”
I stared at the wall.
Suddenly I remembered something from the bar.
The way Daniel had smiled when I told him I had spent thirty-four years married to the same man.
