Chapter 6 - The Man Ethan Still Called Dad
Harold arrived at Ethan’s house the next afternoon.
He looked older than sixty-seven.
Claire did not offer him coffee.
Ethan did not call him Dad.
Not at first.
Harold sat across from them at the kitchen table.
“I knew your mother before you were born,” he told Claire.
“That part isn’t in dispute.”
Harold nodded.
“Rebecca and I had an affair.”
“How long?”
“About six months.”
“You were married to Diane.”
“Yes.”
“Did you know Mom was pregnant?”
Harold stared at his hands.
“She told me.”
Claire’s jaw tightened.
“Then why didn’t you contact me?”
“She told me the child wasn’t mine.”
Claire blinked.
Harold continued.
“Rebecca said there was another man.”
“Thomas?”
“She didn’t give me a name.”
Ethan finally spoke.
“You believed her?”
“I wanted to.”
That answer was ugly enough to sound true.
Harold had been thirty-two, married, building a business with a two-year-old boy at home.
A pregnancy would have detonated everything.
Rebecca gave him an escape.
He took it.
“I sent her money once,” Harold said.
Claire’s voice sharpened.
“She sent it back.”
Harold looked surprised.
Susan had remembered that too.
Afterward Harold and Rebecca never spoke again.
Not until years later.
Claire caught the wording.
“What do you mean not until later?”
Harold froze.
Ethan noticed.
“When did you see her again?”
“At your wedding.”
“No.”
Claire stood.
“My mother was dead before my wedding.”
Harold closed his eyes.
Ethan leaned forward.
“You just said you spoke to Rebecca again.”
Harold’s mistake had exposed something new.
Finally he admitted it.
Six years before Claire and Ethan married, Harold had unexpectedly encountered Rebecca at a charity fundraiser in Chicago.
Claire would have been twenty-five.
Ethan was twenty-nine.
Harold already knew Claire existed.
Rebecca told him Claire was his daughter.
Claire stared at him.
“And you still never contacted me.”
“Your mother asked me not to.”
“You obeyed her then?”
Harold winced.
Ethan stood too.
“Did you know Claire and I were dating?”
Harold looked at him.
“Yes.”
The kitchen suddenly felt too small.
Claire’s voice dropped.
“How long?”
May you like
Harold did not answer quickly enough.
And Claire understood that the next truth was going to be worse than the affair.
