Chapter 6
I told the kids two days later.
We were sitting around the kitchen table at my aunt and uncle's house.
Pancakes on the table.
Syrup everywhere.
Noah was making a pancake man with chocolate chip eyes.
Lily was picking at her food, like she'd been doing ever since the lake house.
I took a deep breath.
"Guys?" I said. "I need to talk to you about something important. Something that's going to be hard to hear. But you deserve the truth. You're old enough now."
Lily put down her fork.
Noah stopped mid-bite of his pancake man's head.
"Is Dad in trouble again?" Noah asked. His voice was small.
"Yes, baby," I said. "He is. But that's not what I want to talk about. I want to talk about your Uncle Daniel."
Lily frowned.
"The one who died in the army?"
"That's right," I said. "Your Uncle Daniel was my twin brother. We were born two minutes apart. We did everything together. We were best friends. He was the kindest, bravest, funniest man who ever lived. And he loved you two more than anything in the world, even though he only got to meet Lily when she was tiny, and he never got to meet you, Noah."
I reached across the table.
Took both their hands in mine.
"Remember when I told you that sometimes babies are made in special ways? With the help of doctors?"
They nodded.
They'd had the talk a year before, when a girl in Lily's class had two moms.
"Well," I said. "That's how you two were made. With the help of doctors. And when the doctors helped make you... they used something very special from your Uncle Daniel. Because he wanted to make sure that if anything ever happened to him, a part of him would stay here. In the world."
I paused.
Chose my words carefully.
"What I'm trying to tell you is... your Uncle Daniel is your real daddy. Biologically. The man you've been calling Dad? Jack? He's not related to you by blood. He married me after you were already born. He promised to love you and take care of you. But he didn't keep that promise."
Silence.
Long silence.
Noah was the first to speak.
"So Uncle Daniel is my real dad?" he said. His eyes were wide.
"Yes, baby."
"Cool," he said. And then he took another bite of his pancake man.
I blinked.
I'd expected tears.
Screaming.
Questions.
Not cool.
Lily was staring at me.
Her face was unreadable.
"You knew this the whole time?" she said.
"No," I said quickly. "I just found out a few days ago. I swear to you, Lily. If I'd known, I would have told you. I would never keep something like this from you. Never."
She looked down at her hands.
"Does that mean Jack never loved us?" she whispered.
Oh, baby.
I got up.
Walked around the table.
Kneeled beside her.
Pulled her into my arms.
"I don't know," I said honestly. "I really don't. I think he tried. For a while. But he was a very sick man, Lily. He did a lot of bad things. Things that hurt a lot of people. And his sickness made it impossible for him to love anyone the way they deserved to be loved. Not me. Not you. Not Noah. Not even himself."
She cried into my shoulder.
"I hate him," she sobbed. "I hate him for lying. I hate him for taking us to the lake house. I hate him for making me scared. I wish he was never my dad."
"I know, baby," I said. Rocking her. "I know. It's okay to hate him. It's okay to be angry. You can be as angry as you want. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. We're going to get through this. Together. All three of us."
Noah climbed down from his chair.
Crawled into my lap too.
"I don't hate him," he said. "I just feel bad for him. He's going to be in jail forever. That's sad."
I kissed the top of his head.
My sweet, forgiving boy.
With his father's heart.
"It is sad," I said. "But it's not our job to fix him. It's not our job to save him. He made his choices. Now he has to live with them. Our job is to take care of each other. To be happy. To live the best lives we possibly can. Can you two do that? For me? For Uncle Daniel?"
They nodded against my chest.
We sat like that for a long time.
Just the three of us.
Holding each other.
Crying.
Healing.
It wasn't perfect.
It wasn't the way I'd wanted things to go.
But it was ours.
And for the first time in a long time, I felt like we were going to be okay.
The next month was the hardest and the best of my life.
We sold the big house in Highland Park.
Too many bad memories.
We bought a smaller place in the country.
West of Fort Worth.
Twenty acres.
A barn.
A pond.
Plenty of room for the kids to run.
To scream.
To just be kids.
We got two rescue dogs.
A golden retriever named Sunny and a little terrier mix named Max.
Lily started riding lessons.
She was a natural.
Noah started T-ball.
He was terrible.
But he loved every second of it.
I went back to work.
Not nursing.
I couldn't do that anymore.
Not after what Jack had done to the medical profession.
I started a foundation.
The Daniel Carter Foundation.
We helped families who had been victimized by fertility fraud.
We paid for DNA testing.
We connected half-siblings who had been separated at conception.
We fought for new laws.
Stricter regulations.
Prison time for doctors who lied to their patients.
It was hard work.
Emotional work.
But it was good work.
Important work.
And it felt like Daniel was right there with me.
Every step of the way.
Gerald came to work for the foundation full time.
Marcus became our head of security.
Rita was on retainer.
I had built a new family.
Not the one I'd been born into.
Not the one I'd married into.
A better one.
One built on trust.
On respect.
On choosing each other, every single day.
I should have been happy.
I was happy.
Most days.
But there was something missing.
Someone missing.
I thought about him every night.
Every time I looked at Lily's eyes.
Every time I heard Noah laugh.
Daniel.
My brother.
My best friend.
The father of my children.
I'd spent ten years grieving him.
Ten years missing him.
And now, with every day that passed, I missed him more.
Because now I knew.
He'd left me the greatest gift two people could ever give.
And I'd never gotten to thank him.
One night, I was sitting on the porch swing, looking up at the stars, when Gerald walked out.
He handed me a glass of wine.
Sat down beside me.
"Penny for your thoughts," he said.
I smiled.
"Just thinking about Daniel," I said. "Wondering what he'd say if he could see us now. The kids. The foundation. Everything."
Gerald was quiet for a long time.
He swirled the wine in his glass.
"There's something I need to tell you," he said. "Something I should have told you a long time ago. But I promised Daniel I'd wait until the time was right."
I turned to look at him.
His face was serious.
Sad.
"What is it?" I said.
"Daniel didn't die in Iraq," he said.
The words hung in the air.
I stared at him.
Laughed.
A sharp, nervous sound.
"That's not funny, Gerald. Don't joke about that. I saw the body. I identified him. I buried him."
"You buried a casket," Gerald said. His voice was steady. "You never saw what was inside it. The military wouldn't let you. Said it was too bad. Too damaged. Remember?"
I remembered.
I'd screamed.
I'd begged.
They'd said no.
Said it was for my own good.
That I shouldn't remember him that way.
"What are you saying?" I whispered.
"I'm saying the man in that casket wasn't Daniel," Gerald said. "It was a body double. A man who looked enough like him to fool a DNA test—they used Daniel's own blood and hair samples to plant evidence. The whole thing was staged. By the CIA. By black ops. Daniel wasn't just infantry, Megan. He was a deep cover operative. He'd infiltrated a terrorist cell. They found out. They were going to kill him. The only way to get him out alive was to make the world think he was dead. Including you."
I stood up.
My wine glass slipped from my hand.
Shattered on the porch.
"No," I said. Shaking my head. Backing away. "No. You're lying. You're lying to me. Why would you lie to me like that? After everything we've been through?"
"Because I promised him," Gerald said. Standing up. Holding his hands out like he was calming a spooked horse. "I promised I'd never tell you unless he was safe. And he is now. He's been safe for six months. He came home. He's been in a safe house in Virginia, debriefing. He finished yesterday. He's been cleared. He's on his way here right now, Megan. He's been waiting ten years to see you. To meet his children."
I couldn't breathe.
The world was tilting.
Spinning.
Ten years.
Ten years I'd grieved.
Ten years I'd thought he was rotting in a grave in Arlington.
Ten years I'd talked to his headstone.
Cried over it.
Left flowers.
And he'd been alive.
All this time.
Alive.
I turned and ran.
Into the house.
Up the stairs.
Into the bathroom.
I slammed the door.
Locked it.
May you like
Slid down to the floor.
And I screamed.
