The Good, the Bad, and the Emus(106)

“Michael,” I said. “My husband. And in fact, make that two other people. Stanley Denton. He’s been working very hard to solve your murder. For all I know, this might be just the bit of information he needs to crack the case.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” she said. “But yes, do tell them. But first, let’s tell your father. First thing in the morning.”

“Even if he may not be able to keep your secret?” I said. “Not because he won’t try, but because he won’t be able to hide his exuberance.”

“You think he’ll be exuberant?” She smiled slightly. “Yes, even then.”

“First thing in the morning, then.” Dr. Ffollett stood up, evidently feeling this was a good note on which to depart. “You’ll probably want to keep that a family affair.”

“Come over beforehand and help me keep from going crazy,” Cordelia suggested, moving toward the front door.

Dr. Ffollett nodded and went out. I figured she was tired, so I prepared to take my leave. Probably a good thing I had an excuse to leave. So far I’d managed to avoid expressing the anger I’d been feeling. And it would be a lot easier to get past that by myself.

But more questions were still nagging me. Maybe one more wouldn’t hurt. One that didn’t go too much farther.

“Before I go,” I said. “One more why?”

She cocked her head in interrogation.

“You never had any children,” I said. “Other than Dad, I mean. Was that a choice?”

“Of sorts,” she said. “Robert—my late husband—didn’t know about your father. When we were courting, I didn’t know how he’d take it. By the time I figured out my past wouldn’t have been an issue, there was a bigger reason to keep the secret.”

“Bigger reason?”

“When we hit our fifth anniversary with me still not pregnant, Robert suggested we ask our doctor if he could do tests. And I’d already figured he’d get around to that sooner or later. So by the time he brought the subject up, I’d already briefed the family doctor, in confidence, about my history, and got him to agree that if Robert insisted on testing, he do the tests—or pretend to. And if there wasn’t much hope, then he should say I was the problem.”

“You knew he’d take it hard.”

“It would have killed him,” she said. “Made him feel as if he failed me. I know it sounds silly now, but those were different times. I don’t think it would have bothered me nearly as much. Then again, how do I know? By the time Robert and I met, I’d already had your dad. I knew I could have kids. It all became part and parcel of the big secret I was keeping.”

“So he never knew about Dad.”

“Heavens, no!” She shook her head vigorously. “After a while, I wished I could tell him, but I couldn’t do that to him. I don’t think your father’s existence would have bothered him so much as the fact that we hadn’t had any children together. He went to the grave thinking it was my fault, and he never blamed me. Not once.”

Her answer to this why raised at least as many questions as it settled. Like why not adopt? And why not find some reason for keeping in touch with Dad—like pretending to be his adoptive parents’ oldest and dearest friend, a friend who, not having children of her own, became like a second mother to him.

Time enough to talk about all this, instead of trying to do it standing in a doorway with both of us nearly falling asleep on our feet. So I nodded and was turning away when Cordelia gently took my arm and stopped me.

“I never stopped thinking about your father,” she said. “About all of you. I realized pretty quickly that having me around really bothered your father’s adopted parents. Made them worry that I’d take him back. So I watched from afar, because that was all I thought I could do. Wait—let me show you.”

She pushed the front door closed and strode back to the living room. I followed her to the small desk. She opened a drawer and took out a key.

“Annabel never approved of this,” she said. “She always said that if you spend too much time craning to see the road not taken, you’re sure to trip and break your neck. So she pretended this didn’t exist.”

She unlocked a nearby armoire—I’d assumed it held a television. But instead, I saw a shrine to my family. The large space where I’d expected to see a television contained a pair of wrought-iron candlesticks I’d made, and pinned to the inside of the cabinet were pictures of Mother and Dad, of my sister Pam and her family, of Rob, and of me with Michael and the boys. Most of the pictures were obviously taken from publications. Rob on the Businessweek cover the year his first computer game, Lawyers from Hell, was a runaway success. A photo of me at my anvil from a craft magazine. Mother and Dad’s wedding picture from the Yorktown Crier. Michael in his costume from the cult TV show he’d appeared on for several years.