by Debra Doxer
My eyes widened in surprise while her expression crumpled. Her hand fluttered up to her throat as she tried not to cry, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.
“Excuse me,” she said and walked out of the room, apparently not wanting me to see how upset she was.
How serious was it between them? My father had invited her to run away with us, and apparently she was planning to actually go? When was he going to tell me—as he was pulling up in front of her house to pick her up?
“Hop in the back, Candy. Your future stepmother is going to ride shotgun. Oh, did I forget to mention her?”
That would have gone over well. Nice, Dad.
Lorraine was gone long enough for me to take off my coat and wonder if I should go looking for her. Restless, I stood and gazed around the room instead, noticing her taste tended toward busy floral patterns in pastel colors. Again, very different from my mother, who decorated our house in subdued solids. Lorraine had some prints hung on the walls, and framed pictures on the table beside the television stand.
As I headed toward the photographs, I glanced in the direction she’d walked in and saw a narrow hallway with an open doorway at the end. That had to be where she’d gone to collect herself.
I shifted my gaze to the photos and saw what looked like a younger version of her with a lanky boy by her side holding a football. That same boy was in all the pictures.
Bending closer, I squinted when I realized the boy looked familiar. After examining the other pictures, I sucked in a breath.
Jonah. There was no scar, but it looked just like him. My heart picked up speed as I realized who this woman had to be.
“You know my son,” she said as she stepped up beside me. I hadn’t even heard her approach.
I straightened, trying to find my voice. “You’re Jonah’s mother.”
She nodded and I stared at her, trying to see past the dyed hair and makeup. I thought maybe the shape of her eyes was the same as his, but hers were green. This was the woman who’d walked out on Jonah. She was his mother, and somehow my father knew her? Blood whooshed in my ears, and I felt a headache coming on.
Lorraine’s eyes were bloodshot from crying. She reached down and picked up a photograph of her standing beside Jonah. “Your father told me they put him in your school.” She bit her lip, still looking at the picture. After a moment, her hand trembled, and she set it down again.
“My father knew who Jonah was?”
“No, not until you showed him the license you found.”
I gaped at her. “He told you about that?”
She nodded. “He called me when he realized it was my son. I’ve always called him Cooper, but to you and everyone else, he’s Jonah.”
My father called her when he knew? He said nothing to me but he called her? I resented the hell out of that.
“How do you know my father?”
Lorraine wrapped her arms around herself. “He didn’t tell you anything about me?”
“Nothing,” I replied bluntly, wanting to hurt her feelings, but was immediately ashamed of myself when I succeeded.
She breathed a little deeper in an attempt to control her emotions. “I met your father when we lived in Massachusetts. He worked with my husband.”
Lorraine hadn’t really answered my question the way I’d meant it, and I let my expectant expression tell her that.
She cleared her throat. “One afternoon when your father was at our house, he saw Victor strike me. The job wasn’t going well, and I interrupted him when they were talking. Anyway, before Sebastian left, he took me aside and asked me if I needed help. I was so embarrassed. I told him I was fine, but he left me his number in case I changed my mind.”
The fact that Victor could have hit Lorraine didn’t surprise me so much as the fact that he’d do it in front of my father. My father’s kindness to her made my heart swell, but it also made me wonder why Jonah was angry at his mother for leaving. How could he feel that way if his father was hitting her?
“When did this happen?” I asked.
She thought for a moment. “Almost seven years ago.”
I recalled Jonah said his mother left when he was fifteen years old, which would have been seven years ago, just like she said. The problem with that was my mother only died six years ago.
“So you and my father are . . . ?”
She lowered her chin and raised her eyes. “What? An item?” She smiled shyly and nodded.
“Oh.” My lack of enthusiasm was obvious, but I couldn’t help it.
She seemed to know what I was thinking. “It was more than a year after your mother passed before anything happened between us. Your father loved her, and he was faithful to her. He’s a decent man. That’s how I know whatever they’re accusing him of, he didn’t do it.”
Now I knew that my father hadn’t told her what this was all about either, and yet she still believed in him. I smiled, finally recognizing something in her that was similar to my mother—the way she defended my father. Because of that and the fact that he’d kept us both in the dark, I couldn’t help but soften toward her a little.
“When Jonah talked about you, he only said that you left. He didn’t say why.”
She seemed to shrink back at my words. “He didn’t know. Victor never hit me in front of him, and he never struck me anywhere the bruises would show. He was too smart for that, although he belittled me in front of Cooper. He degraded us both, every day, but Cooper was so young when it started. He didn’t know that wasn’t how a father should act, didn’t realize that wasn’t how a family should be. Victor would purposely do something to make me lose my temper, and then he’d tell me I was crazy for getting so upset. He was constantly trying to make me look like a bad mother in front of Cooper, like changing the times on the calendar for Cooper’s football games so that I missed them. Then he’d tell Cooper I didn’t care enough to go.”
Her eyes swam with tears. “I felt so helpless. I started finding things to do to keep me out of the house and away from him. But then he got angry because I was never home, and he ordered me not to leave. So I stayed in the house, and I started drinking too much. My anger would build over time and I’d lash out, call him names and throw things, threatening to leave him and take Cooper with me.”
Lorraine tightened her lips, her body stiff with emotion. “Victor hated the idea of losing his son. He thought Cooper was his property. The last time I threatened to walk out with Cooper, he got so angry. I really thought he was going to kill me. When he came after me, I ran into the kitchen and grabbed a knife to defend myself. Cooper came home from school that day using the back door in the kitchen, but I didn’t hear him. I was too terrified, and when Cooper came from behind me and tried to take the knife, I lunged at him. I didn’t realize . . .”
My eyes widened.
Wiping at her damp eyes with the back of her hand, she looked at me. “Did he tell you that was how he got the scar?”
I shook my head. “He doesn’t talk about it.”
Lorraine cried a little harder, taking time before she spoke again. “I left after that, once I knew Cooper was going to be okay. I hoped things might be better for him without me. I thought maybe I was the problem.” She pulled a tattered tissue from the pocket of her robe, and wiped at her eyes with it before giving me a pitiful shrug. “It was clear neither of them wanted me there anymore, and I couldn’t blame them. Not after what I did.”
I pictured the pink jagged line beside Jonah’s eye. She’d given him that scar, and I could see how heavy her guilt was over it. Her story was tragic, and it was Jonah’s tragedy too. One he didn’t share with anyone, and now I understood why. His own mother had done it.
“Does Victor know about you and my father?” I asked because I was fairly sure Jonah didn’t.
Lorraine hugged her arms around herself. “He suspects. That’s why he volunteered to investigate Sebastian. There had been rumors about your father for a long time, but no one really believed them. Victor took thos
e rumors and ran. He made it personal because of me.”
Her gaze pinned mine as she said, “We tried to be careful. We knew Victor would look for me, so I couldn’t live too close to Sebastian. That’s why he rented this house for me. Since he came here so often to see you, it made sense to find a place nearby for me. That way he could check on both of us at the same time.”
My forehead wrinkled in confusion. “He never came here to see me.”
Lorraine released a breath. “Actually, he did. He’d come and watch you sometimes. He wanted to see you, but he didn’t want to bother you or intrude.”
“What?” I whispered, astonished. “I never saw him. Why didn’t he tell me he was here? He wouldn’t have been bothering me.”
“That’s what I told him. But he had his own ideas about things.”
I didn’t want to believe it, but it sounded too much like my father not to be true. I could feel my anger building. How could he do that, be so close and not tell me? Didn’t he realize how much I wanted to see him, how much I needed him?
“Don’t be too hard on him,” she said. “He only wanted what was best for you.”
I hated when adults said that. It was a lousy excuse for not seeing your own kid. I pressed my lips together, trying to hold my tongue because Lorraine had done the same thing. She stayed away from her son too, and I doubted Jonah would think it was best for him.
Lorraine stood up. “I’m going to have a cup of tea. Would you like one?”
“Tea?” It seemed like a ridiculously normal thing to do in light of all I’d just learned. No, I didn’t feel like tea.
I glanced at the time on my phone since I still wanted to see Theo. I was hoping to spend the night at his house, and didn’t want to get there too late.
Lorraine wasn’t what I was expecting when I arrived here, and I wondered why my father sent me. I’d learned more about Jonah and his family, but nothing else, nothing that could help my father.
“You should stay and have tea,” she said firmly. “We’re not quite done yet.”
I arched my brows at her.
“Come sit with me in the kitchen. I have something of your father’s he wanted me to give you.”
She turned and assumed I’d follow. I was too curious not to.
***
Once Lorraine had two cups of tea steeping, she left me alone in the kitchen as she disappeared down the hallway. I sat at her table restlessly, uninterested in my tea, glancing around and trying to picture my father here.
It was hard to imagine him living in any other house but our own. The more I thought about it, the more I understood why he’d chosen Lorraine. Her appearance was brash, but she seemed to genuinely care about my father. That much was obvious. She’d also been through something traumatic and she was missing her son, even though she’d chosen to leave him the same way my father chose to leave me by allowing my aunt to take me. They had that in common.
When Lorraine returned, her arms were weighed down by a small safe. My eyes widened at the sight of it, watching as she set it down on the table with a thump and placed a scrap of paper beside it. It was the same safe that had once sat in my father’s closet. At least, it looked exactly the same. Everything inside me stilled and then sped up again.
“That’s the combination,” she explained. “Sebastian said I should give you both if you ever came here to find me.” Then she laughed. “It took all my willpower not to open that thing myself.”
I looked from the safe to her. Obviously, it held something important. It seemed so long ago when I’d first found it, and so much had happened since. Was this what Victor was looking for in our house? How ironic that my father had hidden it with Victor’s very own wife.
Sitting down, Lorraine eyed me expectantly. “Would you like me to leave while you open it?”
I was about to tell her yes, but it seemed rude to send her away. Besides, my father trusted her, and I was so tired of secrets.
Swallowing my growing nerves, I shook my head as I picked up the paper and looked at the three numbers written there in my father’s neat handwriting. The numbers represented a date I knew all too well, and my hand was less than steady as I turned the combination while Lorraine watched me intently.
When the lock released, I pressed down on the handle and pulled open the small square door. What we saw inside was underwhelming at first, only a stack of papers, some of which were in manila folders like the one my father had put the house papers in.
Lorraine and I exchanged a curious look as I opened the top folder and tried to read the document inside. Parts of it appeared to be written in Chinese, literally. At least, it looked like Chinese characters.
I handed the paper to Lorraine and kept looking. Deeper in the pile, I found what appeared to be medical forms, and they had my mother’s name on them. They were from her oncologist’s office, listing her diagnosis, and her X-rays accompanied them.
I paused there, staring at the images as an odd feeling came over me. I’d never seen pictures of my mother’s cancer before, of the tiny tumors growing inside her, and it seemed surreal to actually see what had taken her from me.
Lorraine’s gaze stayed on me, but she was silent, waiting. Eventually, I passed those over to her too, and then moved on to the other documents, which were all related to my mother’s illness.
“I don’t understand,” I muttered, squinting to read the tiny print. In the middle of the page, I saw the words clinical trial.
The next few forms were all written in both Chinese and English, with my father’s signature at the bottom.
Lorraine reached around me and pulled some papers from the pile. She shuffled through them, and the pace of her breathing sped up.
“Do you understand what this is, Candy?” she asked.
“I think so,” I replied, although I didn’t understand it all.
“Your mother was accepted into a clinical trial funded by the Chinese government. They rejected her at first, but then changed their minds once Sebastian came to some kind of agreement with them.”
Lorraine grabbed the rest of the folders from me and rifled through them quickly.
“Candy,” she said, pointing to the sheet in front of her. “This says your mother lived two more years after her own doctors told her there was nothing more they could do. The Chinese doctors attributed this to the treatment she received. I don’t understand why your father would keep all this locked in a safe.”
An agreement. Lorraine’s image blurred as my eyes filled with tears and it all fell into place.
“He did it,” I said with conviction. “He did what they’re accusing him of. He’s guilty, and this is why.”
“Did what?”
“He traded secrets to the Chinese government to get my mother into this clinical trial. That was the agreement he made.”
This was what my father had gotten in return, not money or anything else. He betrayed his country so my mother could live a little longer. He risked everything for her.
Lorraine held a hand to her mouth as she looked down at the documents. They proved my father committed treason, but they also showed how far he was willing to go for the woman he loved.
“We have to do something with these,” I said, staring down at the papers scattered across Lorraine’s kitchen table. When I looked at her, she shook her head sadly.
“This information can only hurt him. But I think he wanted you to know why he did it. That’s why he saved it all, to explain himself to you. We have to make sure no one else sees it.”
“But it proves he didn’t do it for selfish reasons. Maybe there’s something in here that can help him.”
Lorraine wasn’t persuaded, but my thoughts raced, searching for answers.
“Did my father ever mention someone named Hoyt to you? Tom Hoyt? He works for the organization too. I used to be friends with his son, Drew.”
She thought for a moment before shaking her head.
“Jonah says he was working with my father, t
hat they were in this together. I think I should talk to him.”
Her hands covered mine on the table. “Sebastian wouldn’t want you to get involved. He only left this here because he wanted you to understand.”
“Well, my father didn’t know me very well, because doing nothing isn’t really my style.” I pulled my hands back.
“Candy . . . ,” she said, her voice weary.
Ignoring her, I neatened the papers and placed them back inside the safe. “Can I trust you to hold on to this?”
“Of course,” she replied, sounding offended.
Even though I’d memorized the combination, it was only three numbers, I took the scrap of paper and slid it into my pocket. Lorraine might remember the number too, but I felt better if the combination wasn’t hidden in the house along with the safe.
“It’s late. You’ll stay here tonight. I can make up the couch for you.” Lorraine stated this rather than asked and stood up from the table. “I have some leftover meat loaf if you’re hungry.”
Without waiting for my answer, she took food from the refrigerator and made a plate for me. After heating it in the microwave, she set it down in front of me and while I ate, she busied herself by making up the couch. Although meat loaf wasn’t my favorite, hers was pretty good, and I found myself with an appetite for the first time in a while.
When I tried to clean up after, she wouldn’t hear of it. She shooed me away and told me to get some rest while she tidied up the kitchen. As she washed the dishes, I went outside to the car to get my overnight bag, no longer in the mood to drive over to Theo’s tonight. I needed some quiet time to think about things.
“You look exhausted. Get some rest,” Lorraine said, watching as I pulled out my things. “I’m glad to have finally met you, Candy. You’re exactly as your father described.”
With that, she disappeared down the hallway while I wondered what he might have told her about me. That I was irresponsible and immature, probably, or maybe he said I was smart and enterprising. Either way, I liked the fact that he talked about me, because it meant he thought about me. He also came here and checked on me without ever telling me.
