Chapter 4
I drove home after midnight.
I barely remembered the road.
Brother.
The word kept repeating inside my head.
My father had another son.
Anna had another son.
And apparently everyone had managed to know except me.
His name was Caleb Hale.
Thirty-one years old.
Three years younger than me.
Anna had married a man in Kentucky after leaving Nashville.
Caleb was their son.
He wasn’t Thomas’s child.
He was my half brother through Anna.
At least that was one secret that wasn’t more complicated than necessary.
Caleb knew about me.
That hurt too.
Anna said she told him when he turned eighteen.
He had spent thirteen years knowing I existed while I spent thirty-four believing I had no siblings.
“Why didn’t he contact me?” I had asked.
“He wanted to.”
“So why didn’t he?”
“Because he hates this family.”
I had almost laughed.
Which family?
Apparently I had several now.
When I pulled into my driveway, the house was dark.
Rachel’s car was gone.
Lily’s bicycle still leaned beside the garage.
I stood looking at it for a long time.
My daughter.
The only part of my family story that still felt simple.
Then I remembered Rachel’s face after I hit her.
Nothing was simple anymore.
Mom was gone too.
She had left a note.
I’m at home. I’ll answer anything tomorrow. Please don’t hate me before you know everything.
I crumpled the note.
Then immediately smoothed it out.
I didn’t know why.
Maybe because even angry, I couldn’t destroy something written by the woman who raised me.
I slept for less than two hours.
At 6:15, Lily called from Rachel’s phone.
“Daddy?”
My heart cracked.
“Hey, peanut.”
“Mom says you’re awake.”
“I am.”
“Are you coming to breakfast?”
I closed my eyes.
“Where?”
“Aunt Megan’s.”
I hesitated.
Then Rachel’s voice came in the background.
“It’s okay.”
I drove over.
Lily ran toward me when the door opened.
She was eight.
Messy brown hair.
Missing one front tooth.
She wrapped both arms around my waist.
“You weren’t home last night.”
“No.”
“Mom said you were talking to Grandma.”
I looked at Rachel.
She stood behind Lily.
Her cheek was no longer red.
But I still saw the mark in my mind.
I crouched.
“Your mom and I had a difficult day yesterday.”
“Are you getting divorced?”
Children always find the largest fear immediately.
“No.”
Rachel didn’t answer.
I noticed.
Lily noticed too.
“Mom?”
Rachel knelt beside us.
“We love you.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
My daughter was definitely Rachel’s child.
Rachel glanced at me.
“We’re working through something.”
Lily frowned.
“Grandma slapped Mom?”
My stomach dropped.
Rachel immediately corrected her.
“No.”
Lily looked confused.
“I heard Aunt Megan.”
I swallowed.
“I hit your mom.”
Rachel looked at me, surprised.
I had a choice.
I could soften it.
Explain the context.
Say I was angry.
Say I misunderstood.
Or I could tell my daughter the truth.
“I saw Mom hit Grandma.”
Lily’s eyes widened.
“Mom hit Grandma?”
Rachel nodded.
“I did.”
“Why?”
“Because I got very angry.”
“Did Grandma hit you?”
“No.”
Rachel looked at me.
“Grandma grabbed me, and I got angry, but I should not have hit her.”
Lily turned toward me.
“And you hit Mom?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I was angry too.”
“Did Mom hit you?”
“No.”
Her face changed.
Children understand fairness more clearly than adults sometimes.
“So you shouldn’t have done that.”
My throat tightened.
“No.”
“Are you sorry?”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell Mom?”
“Yes.”
Rachel looked away.
Lily thought about it.
“Okay.”
I almost laughed.
To her, accountability was apparently straightforward.
Wrong.
Apologize.
Do better.
Adults complicated everything.
After breakfast, Rachel asked Megan to take Lily upstairs.
Then she sat across from me.
“You met Anna?”
“Yes.”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s fair.”
“She showed me your messages.”
Rachel stiffened.
“Which ones?”
“The ones where you asked for proof.”
“Oh.”
“You handled it better than I would have.”
She looked at my hands.
“Maybe.”
I knew what she meant.
I leaned forward.
“Rachel, I need to say this again.”
She looked at me.
“I had no right to hit you.”
Her expression stayed guarded.
“I know what I saw.”
“That isn’t an excuse.”
“No.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“No.”
“I reacted.”
“Yes.”
My throat tightened.
“I scared you.”
She finally met my eyes.
“Yes.”
That answer hurt more than I expected.
“Have you ever been afraid of me before?”
Rachel thought about it.
“No.”
Relief tried to come.
I stopped it.
One time was still one time too many.
“I don’t want Lily growing up thinking men get to hit people when they’re angry.”
“Neither do I.”
“I’ll talk to someone.”
Rachel frowned.
“Someone?”
“Counselor. Therapist. Anger management. Whatever.”
“Michael, you’ve never been violent before.”
“That doesn’t mean yesterday disappears.”
She stared at me for several seconds.
Then her face softened slightly.
“Thank you.”
I wanted to reach for her hand.
I didn’t.
“What did Anna tell you about Caleb?”
Rachel asked.
I stared.
“You know about him too?”
“Only since last week.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Wonderful.”
“Michael.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re allowed to be angry.”
“Apparently I’m learning what I’m allowed to do with anger.”
She nodded.
Fair.
“What did Caleb tell you?”
“Nothing.”
“You haven’t spoken?”
“No.”
Rachel hesitated.
“He contacted me.”
My pulse jumped.
“When?”
“Yesterday morning.”
“Before Mom came over?”
“Yes.”
“What did he want?”
“He said Evelyn was going to try getting us to sign something.”
I sat straighter.
“How did he know?”
“He’s been watching Mercer.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“Because Anna thinks Mercer stole her money.”
“So Caleb warned you.”
“Yes.”
“Why not call me?”
“He didn’t trust you.”
That stung.
“He doesn’t know me.”
“Exactly.”
I sat back.
“What else?”
Rachel pulled out her phone.
“He sent me this.”
A photograph of David Mercer leaving my mother’s house two nights earlier.
Then another.
Mercer carrying a leather folder.
Then a third.
My mother standing in her doorway crying.
“What does Caleb do?”
“Private security.”
“That explains the surveillance.”
“He says investigation.”
“Is there a difference?”
Rachel almost smiled.
I hadn’t realized how much I missed that.
Then she opened a message.
CALEB:
Mercer gave Evelyn until Monday. If she doesn’t transfer Michael’s house, he sends the old file to police.
I stared.
“What old file?”
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
“Anna said Mercer is threatening Mom with another secret.”
Rachel nodded.
“Did Anna tell you what?”
“No.”
“So nobody tells anybody anything.”
“Seems to be the family tradition.”
I deserved that.
My phone rang.
Mom.
I answered.
“We need to talk.”
“I know.”
“Not at home.”
“Why?”
“Mercer called me.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did he say?”
“He knows Rachel recorded me.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“What does he want?”
“The original folder.”
“It’s at my house.”
“Michael, do not give it to him.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“He’ll come for it.”
“Let him.”
“No.”
Her voice became urgent.
“You don’t understand what he’s capable of.”
“Then tell me.”
Silence.
“Mom.”
“He knows about your father.”
“So does half of Tennessee apparently.”
“Michael.”
Her voice broke.
“The year before your father died, he tried to confess everything.”
I stood.
“To who?”
“The police.”
My stomach tightened.
“What stopped him?”
“Mercer.”
“How?”
“He told Thomas that if the truth came out, you could lose the house, your savings, everything.”
“That doesn’t explain the police.”
Mom started crying.
“Your father wasn’t going to confess only about Anna.”
I closed my eyes.
“What else did he do?”
“He falsified documents.”
“We know that.”
“Tax records.”
“What else?”
“Trust records.”
“Mom.”
“And one death certificate.”
I stopped breathing.
“Whose?”
There was a long silence.
Then Mom whispered, “Anna’s.”
I looked at Rachel.
She could hear.
Her eyes widened.
“What?”
Mom continued.
“Legally, Anna has been dead for thirty-two years.”
I sat slowly.
“That’s impossible.”
“Thomas and Mercer arranged it.”
“Why?”
“To keep her from reclaiming you.”
My stomach turned.
“You declared a living woman dead?”
“I didn’t sign it.”
“But you knew.”
“Later.”
“How much later?”
“Years.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
“I know.”
“Is that what Mercer is threatening you with?”
“Partly.”
“Partly?”
Her breathing became uneven.
“Michael, there’s another reason your father never went to police.”
“What?”
“Because the doctor who signed Anna’s false death certificate died three days after Thomas confronted him.”
I went cold.
“Are you saying Dad killed him?”
“No.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I’m saying Mercer made Thomas believe he would be blamed.”
Rachel stood.
My heart pounded.
“Who was the doctor?”
“Dr. Samuel Reed.”
“What happened to him?”
“Car accident.”
I closed my eyes.
“And Mercer has evidence?”
“He claims he does.”
“What evidence?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why are you willing to steal my house?”
“Because he said he would have Thomas publicly named as the man responsible.”
“Dad is dead.”
“But Lily is alive.”
I frowned.
“What does Lily have to do with anything?”
Mom started sobbing.
“He said he would destroy your father’s name, your business, your marriage, and make sure your daughter grew up knowing her grandfather was a criminal.”
I almost laughed.
“You were going to take our house to protect a dead man’s reputation?”
“No.”
Her voice dropped.
“I was trying to protect you from finding out the worst part.”
I gripped the phone.
“What worst part?”
She whispered, “Dr. Reed wasn’t a stranger.”
“Who was he?”
My mother paused.
May you like
Then said:
“He was Anna’s husband.”
