Chapter 4: What Claire Carried Alone
Ronnie sat very still.
The refrigerator hummed.
Somewhere outside, a car door closed.
"Your sister," Ronnie finally said.
"Yes."
"So I'm your niece."
Claire's jaw tightened.
"You are my daughter.
That has never changed."
"But you lied." Ronnie's voice didn't rise.
That was almost worse.
"For eighteen years."
"I protected you."
"From what?" Ronnie looked at Marcus.
"From him?"
Marcus shook his head slowly.
"Your mother — Claire's sister, Diane — she and I weren't together when she passed.
We were young.
We'd ended things before she even knew she was pregnant." He stopped.
"I didn't know about you until after she was gone."
"Then how did you end up on the document?" I asked.
"Claire found me," he said.
"About two months after Diane passed.
She came to my door and told me everything." He looked at Claire.
"She said she was going to raise the baby.
She asked me to sign the original paperwork as biological father so the record would be complete.
For medical history.
For Ronnie's future."
"And you agreed," I said.
"I agreed."
"But you didn't tell me." I looked at Claire.
"You were already pregnant — or pretending to be — and you didn't tell me any of this."
Claire finally raised her eyes.
"I wasn't pretending.
I was pregnant.
I lost that baby at eleven weeks." Her voice dropped.
"The seventh one."
The room shifted.
"Diane went into labor the same week I miscarried," Claire said.
"She was alone.
She called me from the hospital.
I drove four hours." She stopped.
"She didn't make it through the second night."
Ronnie made a sound — small, involuntary.
"I held you in that hospital room," Claire said, looking at Ronnie now, only at Ronnie.
"You were three days old.
You had her chin.
You had her hands." Her voice cracked at the edges but held.
"And I knew I wasn't going home without you."
"So you told Dad you gave birth," Ronnie said.
"Yes."
"You let him believe—"
"Yes."
Ronnie stood up.
She walked to the window and stood with her back to us.
Marcus looked at me.
"I'm sorry you're hearing it this way."
"Did you know she hadn't told me?" I asked.
He hesitated.
One second too long.
"You knew," I said.
"She told me you knew," he said quietly.
"I believed her."
I looked at Claire.
Claire looked at her hands.
"Eighteen years," I said.
"Not once."
"I was afraid," she said.
"In the beginning, I told myself I'd explain when the time was right.
And then the time kept moving and you loved her so much and I—" She stopped.
"I told myself the truth would only take something away.
From all of us."
"It wasn't your decision to make."
"I know that."
"She's my daughter, Claire.
I raised her.
I have that right."
"I know."
"Say it like you mean it."
Claire looked up.
Her eyes were wet.
"I was wrong.
I was wrong to keep it from you.
I was wrong to keep it from her."
Ronnie turned around from the window.
"Who else knows?" she asked.
Claire and Marcus exchanged a glance.
May you like
That glance lasted half a second too long.
"Who else?" Ronnie repeated.
