Chapter 6 - THE THIRD MAN
Samuel Hale lived two states away.
But we never had to travel.
When Ethan called him, Samuel answered on the second ring.
“Ethan Mercer.”
Not hello.
Not who is this.
His name.
Ethan froze.
“How do you know me?”
Samuel sighed.
“I’ve been expecting this call for thirty-nine years.”
Ethan put the phone on speaker.
“You’re my father.”
Another long breath.
“I believe I am.”
Robert stood abruptly and walked out of the room.
Ethan stared after him.
“You believe?”
“Your mother never allowed testing.”
“Did you sleep with her?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
Samuel laughed bitterly.
“That question has been poisoning three men for almost four decades.”
He explained.
Vivian had dated Samuel in high school.
Then Robert.
Then George.
Sometimes overlapping.
When she became pregnant, she told each man what benefited her most.
Samuel was told the baby had died.
Robert was told the baby was his but he was dangerous.
George was told Robert was the father, but only George could save Vivian from him.
It was manipulation so elaborate it sounded impossible.
Except the documents were sitting in front of us.
“Why did you pay the hospital bill?” I asked.
Samuel went quiet.
“Who are you?”
“Claire. Ethan’s wife.”
“Then you’re Emmie’s mother.”
My skin prickled.
“How do you know my daughter’s name?”
“George contacted me three years ago.”
Ethan stepped closer to the phone.
“What?”
“He found me.”
Samuel’s voice cracked slightly.
“He said he thought I might be your biological father.”
“Why didn’t you contact me?”
“George asked me not to.”
“Why?”
“He wanted proof first.”
“And did you test?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Your mother found out.”
Of course she did.
“What did she do?”
“She came to my house.”
Samuel paused.
“She threatened my wife.”
Ethan’s face tightened.
“With what?”
“Old lies. Things that could damage my family.”
Samuel sounded ashamed.
“I backed away.”
Ethan laughed bitterly.
“So everybody backed away.”
Nobody answered.
Then Samuel said, “Not everybody.”
“What does that mean?”
“George kept digging.”
“Into what?”
“The hospital records.”
My pulse quickened.
“Why?”
“Because something about your birth bothered him.”
Ethan frowned.
“What?”
Samuel answered carefully.
“Your birth weight.”
We stared at each other.
Samuel continued.
“Vivian claimed you were premature.”
“So?”
“You were eight pounds, eleven ounces.”
Ethan blinked.
“That’s not impossible.”
“No.”
Samuel’s voice became quieter.
“But the dates didn’t match.”
“What dates?”
“The date Vivian said she became pregnant.”
Ethan sat down.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying George suspected the pregnancy started weeks earlier than Vivian admitted.”
“And that makes you—”
“Possibly your father.”
Ethan pressed both hands over his face.
I wanted to comfort him.
Then I remembered Emmie crying on the porch while Ethan stood inside.
I stayed where I was.
Finally he looked at me.
“I deserve that.”
“Deserve what?”
“You not touching me.”
I said nothing.
Samuel offered to come the next morning and provide DNA.
Before ending the call, he asked one question.
“Is Vivian still obsessed with the Mercer name?”
I almost laughed.
“She chained my daughter outside because she believed Emmie wasn’t biologically Mercer.”
Samuel went silent.
Then said, “That sounds like Vivian.”
My anger rose.
“She’s been like this before?”
Samuel hesitated.
“Yes.”
“With who?”
Another silence.
“Her younger sister.”
Ethan looked up sharply.
“My mother doesn’t have a sister.”
May you like
Samuel’s answer came slowly.
“She did.”
