Chapter 7 - Harold Had Seen the Pattern Before the Wedding
Harold had known for eleven years.
Not suspected.
Known.
When Rebecca confronted him at the charity event, she showed him a photograph of Claire.
Harold immediately recognized the young woman Ethan had brought to a Fourth of July barbecue two weeks earlier.
He asked Rebecca whether she was certain.
Rebecca said she was.
Harold never requested a DNA test.
He did not need one badly enough to risk confirmation.
“You let us keep dating,” Ethan said.
Harold looked miserable.
“You weren’t biologically my son.”
Ethan stared.
“So that made it okay?”
“No.”
“That’s exactly what you’re saying.”
Harold pushed his chair back.
“I knew there was no biological relationship between you.”
“You knew there was a relationship,” Claire said. “Just not a genetic one.”
Harold had watched his legal son marry his biological daughter.
He had walked into their wedding.
He had hugged Claire.
He had posed beside Diane while the photographer called them the parents of the groom.
And he had said nothing.
“Why?” Claire asked.
Harold’s answer came quietly.
“Cowardice.”
No grand excuse.
No claim of protecting everyone.
Cowardice.
“If I told you who you were,” he continued, “I had to tell Ethan who he wasn’t.”
Ethan laughed bitterly.
“So you protected Mom.”
“And myself.”
Claire thought about Harold’s behavior over the years.
The unusually generous wedding gift.
How he always remembered Claire’s birthday but forgot nearly everyone else’s.
How he became visibly uncomfortable whenever someone said Olivia had “the Mercer chin.”
Three clues that had seemed meaningless now aligned.
Claire looked toward Olivia’s monitor on the counter.
“Did you suspect she would be your biological granddaughter?”
Harold nodded.
“When Claire got pregnant?”
“Before.”
Ethan’s face hardened.
“What does that mean?”
Harold rubbed his forehead.
“I had started wondering whether I should tell you.”
“Because?”
“Because children change things.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
Harold looked toward Claire.
“I wanted to know her.”
The confession was almost gentle.
That made Claire angrier.
“You don’t get to secretly decide you’re my father because I had a baby.”
Harold lowered his gaze.
“No.”
The next morning, the accredited laboratory called.
The chain-of-custody results were ready.
The preliminary home test had been right about Ethan.
He was Olivia’s biological father.
And Harold Mercer was not Ethan’s.
May you like
But the laboratory had one more comparison to complete.
Harold and Claire.
