Marienne’s eyes were huge as she stared at him. “I’m sorry,” she said. She ran her hand across his hair, and her touch soothed him. “You’re right. Of course you’re not going to believe a stranger over your mother. His story just….” She paused and looked down.
“What?” His eyes narrowed. Her fingers continued to stroke his hair.
“It reminded me a little of our story.” Her eyes met his.
Daniel was confused. “Our story?”
“In some ways, yes. We were both unhappily married when we met, and we fell in love. It took years for us to finally get together, but we did, and we’ve been so happy. We’re so lucky that things worked out the way they did. What if your parents were in a similar situation only it didn’t work out as well. What if it was all a misunderstanding? She thought he wasn’t going to leave his wife and didn’t want children, but he did leave his wife and he wanted her baby—what if they were meant to be together but it all went wrong? It’s all so sad. For all three of you.”
All three of us.
Daniel realized she meant his mother, his father and him. He’d never thought of the world in the context of having two parents.
“Don’t you think it might be worth it just to talk to him? To hear his version of what happened? In case what he said is true? It won’t change anything about your mother. She’ll still be the same woman you loved. The same woman who loved you so much and raised you to be the wonderful man I fell in love with.” Her warm hand rested on his chest. “But you might gain a father.”
Tears stung behind his eyes. The anger had drained out of him and he was exhausted. He needed to stop talking. “I don’t know.” He managed to say. He rested his forehead against Marienne’s.
She rubbed her nose against his then kissed him. “Come, lay down.” She pushed him back against the pillows and he went, gladly. She snuggled up next to him, rubbing his chest. “We don’t have to talk anymore. Just sleep.” Her voice was soft, her body so warm, her hand soothing. He drifted right off.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Daniel awoke to the sound of Drew whimpering. He turned off the monitor to let Marienne sleep. He padded down the hall to Drew’s room, rubbing the sleep out his eyes.
“What’s wrong little man?” he asked.
Drew stood in his crib, tears glistening on his cheeks in the glow of the spinning lamp. Daniel lifted him out of the crib and kissed his salty nose. Drew squirmed, his fingers in his mouth.
“You’re teething, aren’t you? Come, let’s get you one those icy things to gnaw on.”
They headed to the kitchen and Daniel took one of the nubby covered teething rings out of the fridge. “Let’s try this.”
Drew immediately stuck it in his mouth, watching Daniel with tearful eyes.
Daniel yawned. It was four in the morning. Too early to be up, but late enough that by the time he got back to bed, he wouldn’t get much sleep.
Perfect.
He settled onto the couch with Drew. “Would you like to read a story?”
Drew nodded, chewing harder.
Daniel mopped a string of drool off his chin. “Dr. Seuss?” He held up
The Cat in the Hat
. “
Where The Wild Things Are
?” Drew grabbed it out of his hands and tossed it onto the floor. “Clearly not…. How about PB Bear? That’s always been one of your sister’s favorites.”
I’m so glad you’re growing up with both a mum and a dad, and a big sister.
Daniel loved his mother more than anything, but it had been lonely being an only child and having it be just the two of them most of the time. He was glad his children wouldn’t grow up that way. He propped Drew against his chest and started to read. “Happy birthday PB Bear….”
Two books later Drew was asleep, warm and heavy, sprawled across Daniel’s chest. Daniel stared down at him. His little mouth hung open, shiny from drool, his breath smelled sweet. Daniel rested his head against the back of the couch and closed his eyes.
Roger Cromwell
. The name kept coming back into his mind.
Could this man be my father?
He’d had a million scenarios in his head over the decades, of what his father might have been like. In his mind he’d always been some sort of monster. A horrible, cold-hearted man who’d callously broken his mother’s heart and had rejected even the idea of having a child. He’d hated the imaginary man for causing his mother so much pain and for abandoning him. It was impossible to reconcile that image with the letter he’d received.
Not that he believed the letter.
Probably all rubbish. He must want something. Why else surface after all these years?
Still, what if Marienne was right. What if Roger really had just found out about him? And things did happen the way he said in the letter? The nagging sensation returned, deep in Daniel’s stomach. He wasn’t ready to believe that could be true. He couldn’t completely grasp the idea of it.
He nestled further into the couch, relaxing under Drew’s heat, his hand resting on his small fleece-covered back. As he focused on the steady little breaths, he finally succumbed to sleep.
****
Marienne awoke to the sound of Daniel’s alarm clock. She rolled over and saw that his side of the bed was empty. She stretched across the bed, noticing that his pillow was cold.
Where is he?
She untangled herself from the bedcovers and grabbed one of his sweatshirts off the dresser. It was a chilly morning, and her robe was still in the dryer—she’d never gotten around to finishing the laundry because of the email crisis. Daniel’s father. The thought was extraordinary. After all these years for a father to surface, to want to be in touch with Daniel
.
I hope he can see that this can be a good thing.
Ella’s door was still closed but Drew’s was wide open, and he was nowhere in sight. She listened as she tiptoed down the stairs. Nothing. No talking. No breakfast plates rattling. No sound of cheerios being poured into bowls.
She peaked into the family room and saw Daniel asleep on the couch, with Drew draped across his chest. They both had their mouths open. She smiled and tiptoed into the kitchen, quietly taking out the ingredients to make waffles. She had strawberries in the fridge and thought Daniel could use a special breakfast to cheer him up from the night before.
Marienne measured flour into a bowl and began to crack the eggs. She wondered if Daniel was going to reply to the email or call instead. She tried to imagine what Daniel’s father would be like. Based on the letter he seemed well spoken and sentimental, not at all the image she’d had from the limited things Daniel had known from his mother. She hoped he was kind, someone Daniel could get to know. She remembered her own father and wished that she could have him back. His death had been very hard on her but she’d moved on, in many ways thanks to Daniel. Losing his mother had allowed him to know what she was going through. If he could have a parent again, even one he’d have to work to get to know, that would have to be a good thing. Another family member. A grandfather for the children.
This could be wonderful for all of us.
****
The pain in Daniel’s neck registered in his brain before the fact that he was awake. He opened his eyes, cringing. His head was back at such an odd angle he could barely straighten up. Drew was still sleeping on his chest. Daniel grimaced as he pulled himself upright, trying to massage his stiff muscles without waking Drew.
He stood up and carefully lowered Drew into his baby chair. The smell of waffles drifted in from the kitchen.
Daniel followed the delightful aroma, kneading his neck with his fingers. Marienne was opening the waffle iron. A big bowl of sliced strawberries sat on the kitchen table next to a bowl of whipped cream. He leaned forward to kiss her, his neck seizing up again. “Oww.”
“What’s wrong?” Concern filled her dark eyes.
“Slept funny.” He winced as he moved his head from side to side.
Marienne poured batter into the waffle maker and closed the lid. “Come here.” She took him by the hand and led him to the kitchen table. “Sit.”
He complied, feeling her warm hands go to work on him. He leaned his head back against her, feeling the muscles release one by one. “You’ve got magic fingers.”
She giggled. “You’re a lucky man.”
“Yes, I know.”
Chapter Forty
Marienne set a cup of tea down on Daniel’s desk then folded herself into his office chair, legs tucked beneath her. “Have you gotten back to Roger yet?”
Daniel’s face clouded and he continued typing. “No.”
Marienne traced her finger over the warm side of her mug. It was obvious he didn’t want to talk about it, but she felt the need to push him. “Don’t you think you should?”
She knew the word ‘should’ was a mistake the minute it left her mouth.
He turned his chair toward her. “No. I don’t think I
should
. And I’m not sure I will.”
“But Daniel.”
“Why are you set on having me get in touch with this man? I have no idea if he is who he claims to be and even if he is, I don’t know that I want anything to do with him. In fact, I’m fairly certain I don’t. I’d think you, of all people, would understand remaining distant from a hurtful parent.”
Marienne flinched at his words. He was referring to her mother, who she hadn’t had contact with in years. “You can’t compare Roger to my mother,” she said.
“That’s right, I can’t. You know you’re your mother’s daughter. For better or worse she was around the whole time you grew up. And I have always supported your decision to cut her off. No one needs to invite cruelty into their lives.”
“I agree. And if Roger shows any hint of being unkind or up to something, I’d tell you not to have anything more to do with him. But what if what he says is true? What if he really did love your mother and really had no idea you existed? If that’s true then don’t you want to change that? Aren’t you curious to talk to him? To meet him? He could be—”
“He’s the man who broke my mother’s heart. He’s the reason she raised me alone. That’s if Roger is even who he claims to be, which he very well may not be.”
****
Marienne’s sigh grated on Daniel.
Why won’t she let this go? Why is she insisting on taking the side of a stranger?
“Look,” she said. “I don’t see the harm in emailing him. Suppose you’re right, and he is lying. Don’t you at least want to find that out? And if he’s not lying, then maybe you can get some answers after all these years.”
“I don’t want answers.”
I just want to stop talking about this
. He turned back to his computer, wishing she would either change the subject or stop talking entirely.
“How about if we look him up online then?” she said.
That does it.
“Why can’t you let it go?” He spun his chair to look at her and knocked his cup over. Tea poured everywhere. A warm stream ran along the side of his desk, spilling onto his leg and over his briefcase. “Fuck.” He jumped up, kicking his bag out of the way and trying to stem the flow before it reached the stack of term papers.
Marienne reached over, attempting to cup her hands and catch what was dripping onto the floor.
He pushed past her, grabbing the trash can. “I’ve got it.”
“Let me help you,” she said, sweeping the tea toward the wastebasket with her fingers.
“I said I’ll take care of it. Leave it alone.” He strode out of the room to get some paper towels. The wet tea spot on his leg felt cool and was sticking to his thigh.
Perfect.
He yanked the paper towel roll out of the holder.
He returned to his office to see that Marienne was drying off the underside of his keyboard. She’d gotten a towel from somewhere. His mood softened as he watched her cleaning up the mess he’d made.
He put his hand on her arm. “I’ll do it. It’s my problem.”
“Your problems are my problems,” she said.
He knew she was no longer talking about the tea. His shoulders slumped. He was tired of being angry.
“I know this is a difficult situation, Daniel, I really do. I just don’t want you to do anything you might regret later.”
“Neither do I.” He pressed the paper towels into the carpet, feeling them dampen. “I suppose you’re right. I’ll have to write something back to him. I’ve no idea what to say.”
She sat down in his chair, mopping beneath the mug. “You could start with questions. If he is who he says he is, he should be able to provide a lot more details. Ask him things. And I wasn’t kidding about looking him up on the computer. I can help you.”
“I already did.”
Marienne’s eyes grew wide. “What did you find?”
“He’s the head of Cromwell Estates, one of the largest antique dealers in London. They’ve been around for decades. It used to be run by his father and he took it over some years ago. All very prestigious.”
“Wow. So would that fit with what he said about traveling a lot for work?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” Daniel finished blotting the carpet and sat down with a thump. “They have international offices.” He raked his hand through his hair, unable to look up at her. “And I remember my mother telling me she’d worked at an antique dealer after she finished university. It’s where she learned all about the collectibles she kept.”