The Man Who Gave Me My Name

Rico looked at the photograph for a long time.

Then he put my phone down very carefully.

"He's in New York."

"The photograph could be old."

"The message isn't."

He was right. I wished he weren't.

"I want to speak to him."

Rico looked at me. The man who had laughed against my mouth was gone. In his place stood someone who could make a room frightening without raising his voice.

"He lied to you for eighteen months."

"And he knows what happened during those months."

"Dante can bring him here."

"Bring him, or drag him?"

His silence was answer enough.

I picked up the phone.

"I want someone else there. Someone who doesn't work for you."

The muscle beside his mouth moved.

"An attorney," I said. "You can recommend one. I'll choose whether I hire her."

He looked toward my door, then back at me.

"Julia Hart. She represented a woman who sued one of my companies."

"Did she win?"

"Unfortunately."

"I like her already."

He didn't smile, but some of the cold left his face.

Julia agreed to meet me the next morning. She had silver hair, burgundy glasses, and no interest in being impressed by Rico Moretti.

"You can wait outside," she told him.

He looked at me.

I nodded.

He went.

For an hour, Julia listened. She didn't tell me whom to trust. She asked what records I had, what I wanted from Marcus, and whether I wanted him prosecuted if his explanations made that necessary.

That question hurt.

He had brought soup when I couldn't keep anything down. He had taught me how to use the bus app. He had sat through the nights when headaches frightened me so badly I thought I was dying.

He had also watched me wonder whether anyone had ever loved me.

"I want the truth," I said. "I don't know what I'll want after that."

"That's enough to start."

We arranged to meet Marcus in her office. He could bring his own attorney. He could leave. He could not ask me to get into a car or surrender my phone.

He objected to every condition, which settled something inside me.

A person with an explanation could speak in a room with witnesses.

Eventually he agreed.

Before we left the house, Leo found me putting on my coat.

"Work?"

"An appointment. I'll be back before dinner. Dad is staying here with you."

His eyes went to Rico.

Rico had planned to come. I had seen it in the way he spoke to Dante, the keys already in his hand.

Now he looked at our son.

Then he put the keys on the hall table.

"We have a garage to rebuild," he said.

Leo thought about that.

"The big one?"

"The very big one."

When I reached the door, Rico stopped me with a hand against the frame.

"Call me afterward."

"I will."

His eyes searched mine. I knew what he wanted to ask.

Come back.

I touched his wrist.

"Before dinner," I said.

Marcus was waiting in Julia's office when I arrived. He wore the brown coat I had bought him at a thrift store last winter. One cuff was frayed. I remembered teasing him about it, remembered how glad I had been to have someone I could tease.

He stood when he saw me.

"Clara. Thank God."

My feet stopped.

For a second, I wanted to go to him.

That was the cruelest part. Knowing he had hurt me hadn't removed all the places where I loved him.

"Sit down, Marcus," Julia said.

He looked at her as though she had interrupted a family reunion.

I took the chair opposite him.

He reached for my hand. I moved it into my lap.

"How did I get to the hospital?"

"There was an accident."

"Who called you?"

"I was your emergency contact through Haven."

"Was I asking for my husband?"

His face changed.

"You were very confused."

"That wasn't my question."

He looked at Julia.

"This is personal."

"Then answer her personally," she said.

He folded his hands.

"Yes. At first."

I stared at him.

Some part of me had still been hoping. For a ridiculous mix-up. For a reason that could make the man who brought me soup and the man who stole my family different people.

"You told me I wasn't married."

"I told you it wasn't safe to go back."

"You told me I wasn't married," I repeated. "I asked you about the pale mark on my finger. You said I'd always worn my mother's ring."

He looked down.

Julia said nothing. She didn't need to.

I opened the photograph on my phone and turned it toward him.

"Rico was told my ring was found near the burned car. Why did you have it in the hospital?"

Marcus's breathing grew louder.

"Because the recovery scene wasn't real."

The words seemed to arrive from a long way away.

"You helped stage it?"

"I passed on what I was given."

"That isn't an answer."

He rubbed his forehead.

"I knew the ring hadn't been found there."

My chair scraped as I pushed back.

"Clara. Please sit down."

I stayed standing.

"Did you know about Leo?"

He didn't answer.

The office was warm. My hands were freezing.

"Did you know I had a son?"

"I was trying to keep you alive."

I pressed my palm flat against Julia's desk because I needed something that would not move.

"I woke up crying," I said. "For months. You told me it was normal. You told me not to think about it."

Marcus's eyes reddened.

"I thought it would pass."

"You thought I would stop missing my child if I couldn't remember his name."

He flinched.

At last, he nodded.