Chapter 22
Her expression softened.
“But if you’re watching this and Alexander Vance is still part of the story, I need you to know something important.”
The room went completely still.
“He may be your biological father.”
Alexander shut his eyes.
My mother continued.
“But he may not be.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“There is another possibility.”
The video ended.
The screen went black.
For several seconds, none of us spoke.
Then I said, “That’s it?”
The clerk checked.
“That is the end of the file.”
My frustration flared.
“She couldn’t have added five more seconds?”
Dana almost smiled.
“Apparently not.”
Alexander opened his eyes.
“There was someone else.”
I turned sharply.
“You knew?”
“I knew she dated someone briefly after we separated.”
“Who?”
“I never met him.”
“What was his name?”
Alexander’s brow furrowed.
“Thomas something. I don’t remember.”
I stared at him.
“Thomas.”
“Yes.”
Dana moved to the computer.
“There may be more.”
I looked at the folder list.
“Open DANIEL.”
Inside were scanned letters.
Most were addressed to my mother.
One was handwritten on lined paper.
Eleanor,
I don’t care what any test says.
That little girl is mine because I’ve already memorized the way she snorts when she laughs, and no laboratory gets a vote on that.
I pressed the page to my chest.
My father.
My real father.
Whatever biology eventually revealed, something inside me settled.
For years I had thought truth would replace one version of my family with another.
It didn’t.
The truth made Daniel larger.
Not smaller.
“I don’t need a DNA test to know who my dad was,” I said.
Alexander looked at me.
“No.”
His voice was gentle.
“You don’t.”
I wiped my face.
“But I still want to know where I came from.”
“That’s different.”
“Yes.”
I looked at him.
“Are you afraid?”
He surprised me again.
“Terrified.”
“Why?”
“If I’m your biological father, then I lost twenty-four years.”
His voice roughened.
“And if I’m not, I don’t want that to change what I feel responsible for.”
I stiffened slightly.
“Responsible for?”
He seemed to realize his mistake.
“That came out badly.”
“A little.”
He took a breath.
“What I mean is, I came looking for you because I owed your mother a promise. But I’m sitting here now because I care what happens to you.”
The words were simple.
No grand declaration.
That made them harder to dismiss.
“I don’t know you,” I said.