“But she was already engaged to Johann when she found out she was pregnant,” Louise protested. “They were so excited about it because he’d had fertility problems with his first marriage and doctors had told him he couldn’t have children of his own...”
Her voice trailed off and she looked suddenly horrified.
“I believe now that she suspected the baby might have been mine by then,” he said slowly. “I don’t know that for sure, though. I can’t know it. I think she was trying to protect herself and her upcoming marriage and just wanted to make sure I was out of the picture. I only know she contacted me in Iraq and begged me to sign the document.”
“That doesn’t explain why a man would sign away rights to his own child.” Herm said, expression taut with a condemnation that Marshall fully deserved.
“I’ve asked myself that a thousand times over the years. I don’t have a good excuse. At the time, I figured it was the logical choice. What could I provide a kid? I was young, single and on a dangerous deployment I wasn’t sure I would even survive. On the other hand, Nikki was about to marry a rich, successful, mature doctor who seemed to be everything I wasn’t.”
With the insight he had gained over the last few days, he decided to lay the rest of it on the table. “Besides that, I was pretty sure I would be a terrible father. That’s the main reason I haven’t said anything all these months. I told myself I didn’t want to interfere or complicate his life more than it already was, but...I guess I needed to convince myself I had something to offer.”
“And do you?” Louise asked, her gaze narrowed.
“I don’t know,” he said truthfully. “I would like to try, if you’ll give me the chance.”
They looked at each other for a moment and seemed to carry on one of those wordless conversations he remembered his mother and father doing at the dinner table while five kids bickered and spilled milk and vied for attention.
“How do we even know you’re his father?” Herm said after a moment. “What happens if we let you start a relationship and you find out it was all a mistake and you have no reason to stick around? That boy has lost enough.”
“We need some kind of proof,” Louise agreed. “All this document says is you would relinquish your rights if you were his father. It doesn’t say you are.”
“We can get a DNA test. I want that, though it’s going to be tough to get a swab without telling him a little about what’s going on.”
“That would probably be wise.”
He paused, reaching into the envelope for what he considered a second piece of evidence. “This isn’t conclusive, but I’d like you to take a look at something.”
When he handed them the picture of Wyatt and Wynona he’d found from a hiking trip they took when the twins were about the same age Christopher was now, both of them gazed at it for a long moment, and then Louise started to cry again.
“Oh my. Look at that,” she said. “Except for the different hair color, he’s the spitting image of Charlene’s Wyatt!”
“The first time I saw a picture of him you posted on social media, I knew,” Marshall said simply. “To be honest, I can’t believe my mother has not been camped out on your doorstep since Christopher came to town, anxious to meet her new grandson. I told Andie that I think my mom couldn’t see what was right in front of her eyes because she was too busy planning a wedding.”
“Andrea knows?” Louise asked in surprise.
She had been such a source of support to him and he had repaid her by making her think he completely discounted her opinion.
“She guessed, from a few things I told her. She’s been pushing me to tell you the truth so that you two can figure out the best way to handle introducing the idea to him.”
“I think we should have the DNA results first. No ambiguity,” Herm said. He didn’t look as wholly convinced as his wife, as Marshall.
“That’s fair. There are kits we can get in the mail or I can talk to Devin Shaw about going to her office for them. Either way, we’re going to have to figure out together what to tell Christopher.”
“To tell me about what?”
Marshall jerked his gaze to the doorway, where Christopher had suddenly appeared. His son had a bruise on his cheek and the beginnings of a black eye. His knuckles were bruised, too, and it looked like his thumb was swollen, the nail damaged.
Apparently one of the first things he needed to teach him was how to tuck his thumb in his fist before punching someone.
“What’s going on?” the boy said into the continued silence.