“I do. I saw him go through the very same emotions as you. You have the same worry line above your eye as he does.”
“My father bowls on Thursdays.”
Mara closed her eyes.
I hated the pity on her face.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Then tell me what you’re not saying.”
She glanced at Dad.
“I think you should meet Evan.”
“Why?”
“Because there are things I don’t think I should explain for him.”
“For Dad?”
“For Evan.”
I stared at her.
“You came in here and told me my father has another child. You showed me a DNA test. Now suddenly you’re worried about boundaries?”
“Claire, I can tell you Evan is his son. I can tell you David has known for ten years.”
My stomach tightened again.
“But the rest isn’t my story.”
“What rest?”
She took a small card from her purse and offered it to me.
An address.
“Go meet him.”
“Why would I trust you?”
“You shouldn’t.”
That answer caught me off guard.
“Then why would I go?”
“Because if you still think your father has been bowling every Thursday for ten years, you deserve to find out whether that’s true for yourself.”
My phone rang.
Mom.
I stepped into the hallway to answer.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
Through the glass, I could see Mara standing beside Dad.
“Yeah.”
“You sound strange.”
“I’m tired.”
“I’m coming back.”
“Give me another hour.”
“Why?”
I looked at the address in my hand.
“I need air.”
Before leaving, I asked Mara how she’d known Dad was in the hospital.
“When David didn’t answer Evan’s messages, Evan called his office,” she said. “One of his coworkers told him about the heart attack.”
Twenty minutes later, I was sitting in Mara’s car.
Neither of us spoke much.
When she stopped outside a small brick house, my hands were shaking.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I said.
“Neither do I.”
Mara knocked.
Footsteps approached.
The door opened.
A man stood there wearing glasses and an old gray T-shirt.
He looked at Mara first.
Then at me.
NEXT PAGE
