A little girl climbed out of the passenger side.
She appeared to be about seven.
She had dark brown hair, straight eyebrows, and the same slight narrowing of the eyes Nathan made when he looked into bright light.
My stomach tightened.
Rachel and the girl entered the apartment building.
I remained in the car.
Thirty minutes later, Nathan arrived carrying flowers and a paper bag from an Italian restaurant.
Rachel opened the building door before he rang.
She smiled.
Nathan kissed her cheek.
The little girl ran toward him and threw her arms around his waist.
He bent down and held her tightly.
I pressed both hands against my mouth.
My first thought was that the child belonged to someone else—perhaps Rachel had remarried and Nathan had somehow become involved in her family’s problems.
My second thought was harder to avoid.
The girl looked like him.
Nathan disappeared inside with them.
The glass door closed.
I sat there until the streetlights came on.
When Nathan returned home at nine thirty, I was helping Sophie finish her family tree.
“How was work?” I asked.
“Long.”
“Did you eat?”
“I grabbed a sandwich at the office.”
“What kind?”
He removed his coat.
“Chicken.”
I smiled.
“You should eat better.”
He smiled back.
“That’s why I have you.”
I looked down at Sophie’s drawing.
She had placed herself between Nathan and me, holding both our hands.
Above us, she had written:
MY FAMILY.
I had to look away.
The following morning, Nathan said he needed to visit Patricia.
“She has paperwork she wants me to review,” he explained.
“I thought we were seeing her tomorrow.”
“She doesn’t want to discuss legal documents during dinner.”
“Should I come?”
“No. It’ll be boring.”
After he left, I called Patricia.
“Is Nathan there?”
Silence.
Then she said, “Not yet.”
“He told me he was helping you with paperwork.”
“Oh. Yes. He is.”
“You just said he wasn’t there.”
“He’s on his way.”
“Patricia, I saw the apartment.”
The line became completely silent.
“I saw Rachel. I saw the little girl. I saw Nathan arrive.”
