I stared at the file box.
“What if Adrian rejects them?”
“Then they learn something painful.”
“And you take them home.”
“You’ve protected them from that for eight years.”
“I know.”
“But eventually protection can become deciding for them.”
I hated when my sister said intelligent things.
I told her so.
She said:
“You’re welcome.”
A few days later, I sat all four boys around the dining table.
Ethan immediately became suspicious.
Lucas brought a science book.
Noah had a hockey puck for reasons I never understood.
Miles sat closest to me.
“I need to talk to you about your father.”
All four became still.
Noah asked:
“Did he die?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
He returned the puck to the table.
“Continue.”
I almost smiled.
“He invited me to Christmas at Cedarcrest Estate.”
Lucas looked up.
“Does he know about us?”
“No.”
Miles’s expression changed.
“But you said you told him.”
“I did.”
Ethan glanced at his brothers.
I continued carefully.
“Before the divorce was finished, I told Adrian I was pregnant.”
“He believed I was trying to stop him from leaving.”
“He didn’t look at the medical information I offered.”
“Later, communication went through attorneys.”
Noah frowned.
“You told him there were four of us?”
“Yes.”
“And he just ignored that?”
“Yes.”
“That is an impressive level of stupid.”
“Noah.”
“What?”
Lucas, without looking up from his book, said:
“He’s technically correct.”
I sighed.
Miles asked quietly:
“Did he not want us?”
There it was.
The question I feared most.
“I don’t know.”
“Did he know we were boys?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Did he know when we were born?”
“I sent that information.”
“But?”
“I don’t know what he personally saw.”
That was the fairest answer.
Ethan asked:
“Why tell us now?”
“Because you deserve a choice.”
“What choice?”
“Whether you want to meet him.”
No one spoke.
Then Noah said:
“I do.”
Lucas closed his book.
“Me too.”
Ethan looked at Miles.
Miles was always the quietest.
The one who felt things deeply and talked about them last.
“If we go and I don’t like him, can we leave?”
“Yes.”
“Right away?”
“Yes.”
“You won’t make us hug anyone?”
“No.”
“Call him Dad?”
“No.”
Miles nodded.
“Then I want to see him.”
Ethan said:
“I want to see his face.”
I gave him a look.
“That sounds threatening.”
“It’s not.”
“What is it?”
“Research.”
Of course.
I accepted Adrian’s invitation that night.
My reply was only:
Thank you. We’ll attend.
He wrote back:
I’m glad. Vanessa is looking forward to meeting you.
We.
He did not notice the word.
Two days before Christmas, Adrian’s mother called.
I had not spoken to her in eight years.
Her voice still carried the same polished caution.
“Claire.”
“Hello.”
“I heard you’re coming.”
“Yes.”
“I think that’s very mature.”
There was that word again.
Mature.
As if I were the unpredictable one being granted the opportunity to behave.
