Chapter 7: The Name That Shouldn't Have Been There
I read Nia's message so many times that the words stopped looking like words.
The DNA report says you're not my biological father.
And there's a second name on the report.
Jordan Bennett.
My son.
My seventeen-year-old son.
For several seconds, I stood in Helen Morris's living room without moving. The clock above the fireplace ticked steadily, completely indifferent to the fact that my entire family had just become unrecognizable.
Then I called Nia.
She answered on the first ring.
"Dad?""
Her voice was thin and frightened. Behind it, I heard the squeak of hospital equipment and the distant murmur of nurses talking.
"Where are you, sweetheart?""
She hesitated at the word.
I couldn't blame her. I'd called her my daughter only hours ago, and now the evidence she'd discovered seemed to be tearing apart that certainty.
"I'm at St. Mary's Hospital," she whispered.
"Lily had trouble breathing. We're waiting for the pediatrician.""
"Is she all right?""
"They think it's an infection. She's stable now.""
I closed my eyes in relief.
"Thank God.""
Then I forced myself to ask the question that had been burning through my mind.
"What do you mean about Jordan's name?""
Nia let out a shaky breath.
"I found a second envelope inside the wooden box Mom kept. It was hidden behind the lining. There were hospital records, an old photograph, and a DNA report.""
"Who was tested?""
"You. My mother. Me. And Jordan.""
I gripped the edge of Helen's table.
"That's impossible. Jordan was born seventeen years ago.""
"I know.""
"How could his DNA be connected to your birth?""
"I don't know, Dad. That's why I'm scared.""
I heard her sniffle.
"My mother wrote something on the envelope. She said if I ever found evidence that you weren't my biological father, I should look at the second report before believing anything.""
"What did it say?""
"That the first test had been challenged because someone had switched the samples.""
The room seemed to tilt.
"Switched them?""
"Yes. The report says the original samples were compromised. But the second test was conducted years later, and it used a different laboratory.""
"Did it confirm the results?""
Nia was quiet.
Then she whispered, "It says Jordan and I share a biological parent.""
I stared at the floor.
"Which parent?""
"I don't know. The report is incomplete. The final page is missing.""
I looked at Helen.
She had gone completely still.
"Nia, listen to me. Don't give those documents to anyone until we've had them independently verified.""
"I already made copies.""
"Good. Keep them somewhere safe.""
"Dad?""
"Yes?""
"There's something else.""
My heart tightened.
"What is it?""
"My mother wrote that if the name Jordan appeared on the report, I shouldn't trust anyone who tried to explain it away.""
I felt cold.
"Did she name anyone?""
"No.""
I looked across the room at Claire.
She was staring at me.
Not at the phone.
At me.
As though she were waiting for the moment I finally understood.
"Nia, I need you to stay at the hospital. Don't go anywhere with anyone you don't know. I'll be there as soon as I can.""
"Okay.""
"And Nia?""
"Yes?""
"Whatever those papers say, you are not alone.""
She began to cry quietly.
"Thank you.""
When the call ended, I turned toward Claire.
"Tell me the truth.""
She shook her head.
"Arthur, I don't know what Nia found.""
"Her DNA report contains Jordan's name.""
Claire's face crumpled.
I took a step closer.
"Why?""
"I can't explain that.""
"You'd better try.""
She looked at Helen.
Helen immediately stood.
"Claire, you need to tell him.""
Claire shook her head frantically.
"No. You don't understand.""
"Then help us understand," Helen said.
Claire pressed her hands against her face.
"I promised someone I would never tell.""
"Who?"" I demanded.
She lowered her hands.
"Your mother.""
I felt something inside me break.
"My mother is dead. Whatever promise you made to her is over.""
Claire stared at me.
Then she whispered, "Your mother believed Jordan might not be your biological son.""
The words were so quiet that, for a moment, I thought I'd misunderstood.
"What?""
Claire's eyes filled with tears.
"She suspected it before he was born.""
I stepped backward.
"No.""
"Arthur—"
"No. I was there when Jordan was born. I held him.
I watched him grow up. He's my son.""
"He is your son," Claire said quickly.
"Nothing changes that.""
"Then why would my mother question his paternity?""
Claire's voice trembled.
"Because she knew about the affair.""
The word hung between us.
Affair.
I stared at my wife.
"Whose affair?""
Claire didn't answer.
I grabbed my coat.
"Tell me now, or I swear I will never listen to another word you say.""
She began sobbing.
"Your father and I—"
She stopped.
The silence was unbearable.
I felt my stomach turn.
"Your father and you what?""
Claire looked at me with the expression of someone who'd finally run out of places to hide.
"Before I married you, I had a relationship with your father.""
For a moment, the world went silent.
Then I heard myself laugh.
It wasn't a happy sound. It was the sort of laugh that escaped a person when the truth became too grotesque to process.
"You had an affair with my father?""
"Before we married.""
"And Jordan?""
Claire covered her mouth.
I stared at her.
"Is Jordan my son?""
She shook her head.
"He's your son in every way that matters.""
"That isn't what I asked.""
She looked at the floor.
"I don't know.""
I felt as though I'd been punched.
"You don't know?""
"We never had a paternity test.""
"Did you ever suspect?""
She nodded.
I closed my eyes.
For seventeen years, I'd coached Jordan's soccer teams, sat through school concerts, helped him with mathematics, and stayed awake beside his bed when he had pneumonia at six years old.
I'd taught him to ride a bicycle. I'd held him when his first girlfriend broke his heart. I'd promised him that he could always come to me, no matter what happened.
Not once had I questioned whether he was mine.
And now I was learning that the woman I loved had slept with my father and concealed the possibility that our son wasn't biologically related to me.
"Does Jordan know?""
"No.""
"Does he know about you and my father?""
"No.""
I looked at Helen.
"Did you know?""
She shook her head, visibly shaken.
"I knew there had been a relationship between Richard and Vanessa. I knew about the disputed paternity test. I knew nothing about Claire and Jordan.""
I turned back to my wife.
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"Because I was ashamed.""
"That's all anyone in this family ever seems to be!""
My voice echoed through the room.
Claire flinched.
I lowered my voice.
"Did my father know Jordan might be his child?""
She nodded.
"He told me he would help us if I kept quiet.""
"Help us how?""
"He paid some of our expenses when Jordan was a baby. He told me that if you ever questioned anything, he'd make sure we were protected.""
"Protected from what?""
Claire began crying harder.
"From the truth.""
I looked away.
My father had been dead for eleven years. There was no way to confront him, no way to ask him why he'd interfered in my first relationship, why he'd arranged the transfer of a newborn, or why he'd made my wife believe he could protect her from the consequences of her own choices.
But there was one person who might know.
Michael.
I called him.
He answered almost immediately.
"Arthur?""
"Did Dad have an affair with Claire?""
Silence.
Then I heard him exhale.
"Who told you?""
I felt my knees weaken.
"You knew?""
"Arthur, I was young. I didn't understand everything.""
"You're my brother. Answer me.""
Michael's voice dropped.
"Yes. I knew.""
I stared at the wall.
"Did you know Jordan might be Dad's son?""
"I suspected.""
"Did Mom know?""
"Yes.""
"Did she tell you?""
"She found a letter after Dad died. It was from Claire. She'd written to him before Jordan was born.""
I pressed my fingers against my forehead.
"What did the letter say?""
Michael hesitated.
"She was afraid Jordan might not be yours. She wanted Dad to help her decide what to do.""
"And he did?""
"He told her to marry you and never speak about the affair again.""
I closed my eyes.
The man who'd taught me that honesty was the foundation of a family had apparently spent his life dismantling mine.
"Where is that letter?""
"Mom kept it with her papers.""
"Do you still have it?""
"I don't know. It might be in the cedar chest.""
"Then find it.""
"Arthur, there's something else you need to know.""
I waited.
Michael's voice trembled.
"Mom didn't just suspect Jordan wasn't yours. She suspected Dad had arranged the paternity test to make sure you never learned that Nia was his daughter.""
I went cold.
"What?""
"He thought Vanessa's baby might be his. He was afraid you'd find out. He wanted to control the situation before the truth came out.""
"Then why did he leave a record of the test?""
"I don't know.""
I looked at Claire.
She was staring at the floor, crying silently.
"Michael, get the letter. I'll call you back.""
I ended the call.
Then I turned to my wife.
"For seventeen years, you let me believe I was the biological father of our son while hiding an affair with my father.""
Claire nodded miserably.
"And for twenty-two years, you let me believe Vanessa abandoned our daughter.""
She covered her face.
"Yes.""
I walked toward the door.
"Where are you going?"" she asked.
"To the hospital.""
"Arthur, please don't leave me.""
I stopped with my hand on the doorknob.
For a moment, I remembered our wedding day. Claire had been crying then, too, but those tears had been happy ones. I'd promised to love her through every storm life brought us.
I'd never imagined that one day I'd have to decide whether the storm was the person standing beside me.
"I'm not leaving because I hate you," I said quietly.
"I'm leaving because I don't know who you are anymore.""
I stepped outside.
My phone vibrated before I reached the car.
A message from Nia.
*Dad, the doctor just came back. Lily is stable. But someone has been asking the nurses for my room number.*
Then another message appeared.
*He said his name is Daniel Bennett.*
I froze.
Daniel Richard Bennett.
My father's name.
The man who had been dead for eleven years.
I called the hospital immediately.
"Get security to Nia's room," I said.
"Don't let anyone in without her permission.""
The nurse on the line sounded confused.
"Sir, the visitor has already left.""
"Did he say where he was going?""
"Only that he needed to speak with you.""
I gripped the steering wheel.
"Did he leave a message?""
"Yes, sir. He said to tell you that if you wanted to know the truth about your daughter, you should look inside your father's grave.""
I stared through the windshield.
May you like
My father had been buried eleven years ago.
And someone using his name had just walked into a hospital looking for my daughter.
