Chapter 4: I Think It's Time
My cursor hovered over the email for a full minute before I opened it.
*"My name is Daniel Marsh.
I knew your daughter Hannah fifteen years ago.
I understand this may come as a shock, and I'm sorry to contact you this way.
I've been trying to find the right moment for a long time.
I don't want to cause any harm.
I only want to know if Audrey is well.
You don't have to respond.
But if you're willing to talk, I would be grateful."*
That was all.
No demands.
No pressure.
Just that quiet, careful paragraph, and his phone number at the bottom.
I read it four times.
Then I went to the kitchen, made tea I didn't drink, and stood at the window watching the street until the light changed.
He had contacted me the same day I found the letter.
That was not a coincidence.
That was not possible as a coincidence.
I went back to my laptop and typed one line.
*"How did you know to write today?"*
His reply came eleven minutes later.
*"I didn't.
I've written this email thirty times over fifteen years and deleted it every time.
Tonight I didn't delete it.
I'm sorry if the timing is wrong."*
I sat back in my chair.
I typed: *"It isn't wrong.
But I need to understand some things before we go any further.
Hannah told me your name was Danny Cole."*
The three dots appeared.
Stopped.
Appeared again.
*"I know.
I asked her to.
I'm not proud of that.
Can I explain?"*
I looked at the hallway.
Audrey's light was still on under her door.
*"Not tonight,"* I wrote.
*"But yes."*
We arranged to speak by phone the following afternoon, while Audrey was at school.
I didn't sleep well.
I lay in the dark and thought about Hannah at twenty-four, driving to the hospital, squeezing my hand, asking me if she was going to be a good mother.
I thought about the careful handwriting in the letter.
*I just wasn't brave enough.*
What had she been afraid of?
The next afternoon, I sat at the kitchen table with my phone in front of me and waited for it to ring.
It rang at exactly two o'clock.
"Mrs.
Calloway?" His voice was calm.
Careful.
Like the email.
"Yes."
"Thank you for speaking with me."
"Tell me about the name," I said.
"Start there."
A pause.
"Hannah and I were together for almost two years.
I loved her.
When she told me she was pregnant, I was — I was scared, but I wanted to be there.
I told her that."
"She didn't tell me that."
"I know.
Because of what happened after." He stopped.
"My family has money.
Old money.
My father found out about Hannah and he — he made it very clear that he didn't consider her suitable.
He threatened to cut me off entirely.
He said things about her that I should have fought harder against.
I didn't fight hard enough."
My hand tightened on the phone.
"What kind of things?"
"That she was after the family name.
That the pregnancy was calculated.
That she would take everything she could get and leave." His voice dropped.
"None of it was true.
I knew none of it was true.
But I was twenty-five and I was a coward."
"So you asked her to use a false name."
"I asked her to give us time.
To let me figure out how to handle my father.
She agreed.
And then — " He stopped again.
"Then she stopped returning my calls.
I found out through a mutual friend that she'd had the baby.
That she hadn't made it.
By the time I knew, you had already been raising Audrey for three weeks."
The kitchen was very quiet.
"You could have come to me then," I said.
"I know." No excuse followed.
Just those two words, sitting there.
"Why didn't you?"
"Because I had already failed Hannah.
I didn't think I had the right." A long pause.
"I've thought about that decision every day since.
I'm not asking for forgiveness.
I'm asking if I can know her.
Just know that she's all right."
I looked at the empty chair across the table — the one Audrey sat in every morning.
"She's more than all right," I said quietly.
"She's extraordinary."
I heard him exhale.
"She has Hannah's eyes," I said.
"And your jaw.
I noticed that yesterday when I found the photograph."
Silence on the line.
Then: "You found the box."
"Yes."
"She told me she was going to make one.
Before she went in.
She called me — the night before.
She said she wanted Audrey to know the truth when she was old enough." His voice broke slightly on the last word.
"She said she was sorry for everything.
I told her she had nothing to be sorry for."
I pressed my fingers against my eyes.
"Mr.
Marsh," I said.
"I need time to think about how to handle this.
Audrey doesn't know anything yet."
"I understand.
Take whatever time you need.
I'm not going anywhere."
After I hung up, I sat at the table for a long time.
May you like
Then I heard a key in the front door.
Audrey was home an hour early.
