Her Secret Son

by Hannah Mary McKinnon

  She exhaled sharply. “I’m sorry, Josh. I didn’t mean—”

  “Grace knew if anything ever happened to her I’d look after him,” I said, cutting her off more sharply than she deserved. “He’s my family. My son. And nobody’s going to take him away from me. Ever.”

  My chest heaved as Mrs. Banks made her excuses and Ivan shuffled her out of the kitchen. When Lisa put her arms around me, held me tight, I rested my head on her shoulder, trying not to cry, right up until Logan came looking for his drink.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The house now empty of guests, and the steady din of voices gone quiet, Logan surrendered to his exhaustion, letting Ivan carry him to bed—providing the hall light stayed on and the bedroom door was left ajar. Since Grace had gone, Logan screamed like a crazed demon whenever he woke up in the middle of the night, engulfed in the dark. The first time it happened I’d leaped out of bed and sprinted to his room before I was properly awake. My small left toe had gone an eggplant shade of purple, and bent slightly to the left from where I’d whacked it on the door frame.

  After Logan had settled in bed, Lisa, Ivan and I went to the den. Some mindless reality show with overtly plastic people played on the television with the sound turned down, but none of us could be bothered to retrieve the remote and switch it off completely. I disguised my yawns, rubbed my eyes when neither of them were looking. Going upstairs would end in a repeat performance of me flopping around, impersonating a fish on a pier, periodically staring at the clock, wishing it would move faster before remembering I had a whole lot less to get up for in the morning.

  “When are you heading to Texas?” I asked Ivan in an attempt to stay awake.

  He waved a hand, and in his deep, gravelly voice said, “I canceled the trip.”

  “You didn’t have to—”

  “Relax, pal, not everything’s about you, you know.” He winked. “Harlan agreed I can manage everything from the office. I’ll go later, if I need to. Besides, we’ve got a new client here that’s merging with a big local company, so I’ll be traveling less for a while.”

  I sighed. “I appreciate it. Thanks for being here.”

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way. Someone’s got to watch out for you.” Ivan put his paddle-sized hands behind his head and stretched out his legs. He was so big he could bench press me if he wanted, had threatened to do so once at the boxing club when he’d been on a mission to impress a girl. I’d refused. He thought it was because I had no desire to become a human gym prop, which was true, but I’d also heard the girl whisper “dumb jocks” under her breath as she’d walked by.

  “Okay if I stay here tonight?” he said, and I nodded.

  “I’ll stay, too,” Lisa said. “You take the den, Ivan, and I’ll bunk with my baby brother. But I have to go to the office in the morning. It’ll be quiet over the weekend so I can catch up. You don’t mind, do you, Josh?”

  I’d known their company would end soon. Life went on, people had things to do, including Lisa. Out of the two of us, my sister had always been the brainy one, the grounded one, the one who had her shit together. Unsurprisingly she’d excelled academically, started her own architectural firm, won prizes and become the latest darling of the cutting-edge design world. I loved her for it, at times hated her, too, in the way only siblings understand.

  I pulled my shoulder blades together in attempt to loosen the knots in my back that made me feel about three times my age. “What time are you heading out?”

  “After breakfast. I promised the munchkin I’d make waffles,” Lisa said, exchanging a look of concern with Ivan. “Uh, do you think you’ll be okay on your own for a few days?”

  I considered the question for a moment. Logan would be at school after the weekend, and I had to work. Hopefully Ronnie would arrange my schedule and keep the jobs simple so I could ease myself back in after two weeks away. I looked at Lisa. “I’ll be fine.”

  “You could stay with me for a while,” she offered. “I’ve got the spare room.”

  “Or with me,” Ivan said. “I’d be happy to put you both up.”

  I shook my head. “Thanks, but all our stuff’s here, and it would be a nightmare getting Logan to school on time.”

  “He’s seven. Does it really matter?” Ivan said.

  “Routine.” I tried to keep the what-do-you-know tone out of my voice. I’d felt the same not that long ago—nothing easier than parenting someone else’s kids. “Routine’s the best thing for both of us right now.”

  “Hold that thought,” Lisa said, getting up. “Back in a sec.”

  “You’re not off to the loo again, are you?” I said with a grin.

  “Shut up, Dad.” Lisa laughed and disappeared into the hallway.

  “I nicknamed her Baby Bladder once.” I smiled at the memory. “Dad would tell her to go before we left the house and I swear, every single time, she’d ask him to stop within ten minutes. He always said she was...wait for it...taking the piss.”

  Ivan grinned. “Somehow I don’t think she’ll appreciate you telling me that.”

  When Lisa came back she sat down again, but kept shifting in her seat, biting her thumbnail, a telltale sign she was about to say something someone wouldn’t be happy about.

  “What is it?” I asked, looking from her to Ivan, unrealistically hoping whatever she was thinking had nothing to do with me at all.

  “I’m really sorry about what happened in the kitchen, with Mrs. Banks...”

  Ivan nodded. “That real dad thing was way out of line.”

  I took a deep breath. “Her timing was shit, but she didn’t know I could hear and she didn’t mean any harm. Besides...she has a point, doesn’t she? I mean, I’m not—”

  “Let’s not talk about this now,” Lisa said.

  “Why not? Let’s face it, I’m not his legal guardian, am I?” I snapped, my hot-air balloon temper swelling.

  Lisa knew the warning signs all too well. She’d rarely heeded them when we were kids—much to Mom and Dad’s despair—but the way she now looked around the room, anywhere other than at me, sitting on the edge of her seat as if she wanted to lunge for the door, I could tell my sister was actually flustered.

  “Maybe we should change the subject?” she said.

  “Or I should speak to a lawyer.” I pressed my fingertips into my thighs, brought my temper back from rolling boil to gentle simmer. “What do you think?”

  “I think I’m a lawyer,” Ivan said.

  “Yeah, but you do corporate law, not family,” Lisa said. “No offense, but I think Josh should find out his rights about Logan from someone who’s specialized.”

  “It can’t be that complicated, can it?” I said. “I’ve been his dad for five years, and I—”

  “Didn’t arrange anything with Grace,” Lisa said quickly. “Not legally.”

  “Lisa,” Ivan said, his tone far more gentle than I’d have expected. “We really don’t need to get into it. The funeral was today. He doesn’t have to—”

  “But she’s right,” I said. “I do need to find out where I stand.”

  Lisa looked at me. “Don’t get mad, okay, but I made a few calls. Without any kind of legal guardianship, Logan’s dad—”

  “Who cares about him?” I threw my hands up. “The guy’s never been around. Hell, Grace didn’t even think he gave her his real name.”

  “But her parents—”

  “She didn’t speak to them in years, Lisa.” I crossed my arms, sat back in my chair. “You know what the situation was, what kind of people they are. Grace told you last year. We talked about it right here, in this very room, remember?”

  Lisa’s words were less urgent now. “I know, I know.”

  “Have you tried to find them?” Ivan said. “Her parents, I mean.”

  “No luck yet,” I said. “I’ve Googled a ton and made phone calls, but so
far I’ve come up with nothing. I didn’t exactly have much to go on.”

  “But how will you tell them about Grace?” he said.

  “I don’t know.” I took a deep breath, reminding myself neither Ivan nor Lisa were the enemy. “I’ll have to keep looking.”

  “Or don’t bother,” Lisa said.

  “I can’t do that,” I said. “She’s their daughter.”

  “That’s right,” she said. “But I’m petrified they’ll want Logan when they meet him.”

  I rubbed my eyes, wishing they’d stop stinging so badly, knowing the remedy was sleep, something I hadn’t done properly in two weeks, didn’t think I’d ever do properly again. “Honestly, that scares the shit out of me, too,” I said. “All the more reason for me to look into guardianship, right?”

  Ivan put his fingers in a steeple under his chin, resting his elbows on his thighs in a let’s-pretend-I’m-a-shrink-not-a-lawyer sort of way. For whatever reason, it really pissed me off. “Maybe you should—”

  “Hey,” I muttered. “I know I said I’d discuss it, but can we stop for now?”

  “Sure,” Lisa said quietly. “But you know we’re just trying to help.”

  “Well, thanks, Captain Obvious.” I shut my eyes, exhaled for a few moments, finally holding my hands up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. I really don’t mean to be such a huge shit.”

  “No problem, man,” Ivan said. “You’re not being a huge shit.”

  “Maybe a small turd,” Lisa said with a smirk. “Sometimes.”

  “Thanks, sis. I love you, too.” My lips twitched upward for an instant but collapsed again. The smallest of grins made me feel like a traitor to Grace. I dug my nails into the armrest, felt the pudgy stuffing bulge beneath my fingertips. Fight or flight. Fight or flight.

  “It’s late,” I said, pushing myself up.

  Lisa reached out and grabbed my hand, her skin warm, her touch reminding me how alone I was. I pulled my fingers away.

  “Night, Josh,” she said.

  Without looking at them I walked out of the den, throwing what I knew was anything but a casual “See you in the morning” over my shoulder, and headed into the hallway, stopping when I heard my sister’s low but urgent whisper.

  “I really hope he speaks to someone,” Lisa said. “Sooner rather than later. Will you recommend someone from your firm?”

  “Of course I will,” Ivan said, “but give him time to breathe. The last thing he wants is—”

  “No, the last thing he wants is for Logan’s dad or Grace’s parents to show up and battle him for custody. Because we both know he could very well lose.”

  My intestines turned themselves into a knot, as if they were a mass of Christmas lights taken down too hastily and shoved in a box with the promise of doing a better job next season. I had to sort out the guardianship; I wanted to. Becoming Logan’s dad had been something I’d dreamed of since I’d met Grace, but now it also meant accepting our lives had changed forever, that she’d never come home, she really was gone.

  I headed upstairs, pretended to be asleep when Lisa sneaked in after a while. Hours later sleep still hadn’t come. Those tangled Christmas lights had moved north, became multicolored fireworks going off in my head. They accepted to be silenced only once I’d crept to the kitchen and guzzled a pint of ice-cold milk while trying to ignore the open bottle of Chianti on the counter, and staring at Grace’s photograph, wishing she’d come home.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Sunday disappeared amid a domestic blur. Logan needed help with his math homework, a mountain of dishes had to be washed, the food from the wake frozen, the booze thrown away, clothes folded, dust bunnies sucked into the depths of the vacuum cleaner... It all had to be taken care of, whether I wanted to or not, but at least it occupied a large part of my brain.

  Well before I was ready, Monday morning arrived. Time to get up, go to work and rejoin a world that had carried on as normal, and looked exactly the same, regardless of the fact every bit of our tiny universe had imploded.

  While Logan was still in bed I made his lunch, poured myself a cup of tea and pulled out my phone. I skimmed through the contacts, muttering some expletives when I misspelled the name, my ridiculous impatience working me up some more. These days I had everything at the touch of a button, a flick of a screen, and it still wasn’t fast enough. “Shut up, Josh,” I whispered, hit dial and continued reprimanding myself for being a middle-aged fart a decade too early. As I prepared to leave a message, a real, live voice answered.

  “Harlan Gingold speaking.”

  Grace had once described his name as “the most perfect, lawyer-y name ever” and joked he should rent it to Law & Order for huge royalties. The name had made me smile ever since—until now. This was something else, another little detail that would never feel the same.

  “Harlan, it’s Josh Andersen,” I said. “How are you?”

  “Josh. I’m well, thank you. I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it to the funeral, but I hope the flowers arrived. It’s such a tragedy. Grace was delightful, simply lovely.”

  “Yes, they did, and she was. Thank you.” I clambered for more appropriate words. Accepting people’s sympathies still made me feel inadequate, as if saying thank you wasn’t enough, made me appear ungrateful somehow. I looked at my watch: seven fifteen. “Sorry for calling you this early.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve been at the office for an hour. Besides, you know what I always say—lawyers are like the fire department. Handy to know how to get hold of them. Hopefully—”

  “Never required in an emergency,” I said. “I remember.”

  Harlan paused for a moment. “In that case, should I presume your call isn’t about the pool house extension?”

  “No, it’s about Logan, I—”

  “Is he alright?”

  “Yes, he’s fine, but, well, you said in your card I could call if I needed anything...”

  “Anything at all. Tell me how I can help.”

  “Well, the trouble is, uh, financially speaking, I don’t know if I can afford—”

  “Please, Josh. Don’t worry about that. Tell me what you need.”

  I exhaled, hoping the force would decrease the weight on my shoulders. “I’ve been thinking about my rights for guardianship, or adoption. Would you have time to talk me through the options?” It felt more urgent than ever now, my laissez-faire attitude from a couple of nights ago long gone. Lisa would be happy. “As soon as possible, please.”

  He tapped on his keyboard, clicked his tongue. “I’ll rearrange my schedule and meet you today at noon, if you’re amenable? Although it can’t be for more than thirty minutes at most, but it’ll give us a chance to get started.”

  I thought about work, decided I’d duck out for an hour. Ronnie would understand, and Leila didn’t have to know. “Yes, please. Thank you very much. Should I bring anything?”

  “Well, we’ll definitely need Logan’s birth certificate but—”

  “His birth certificate?”

  “Yes, that’ll be an absolute must.”

  I rubbed my chin, unsure where the document might be, but certain Grace had kept it somewhere safe. “I’ll do some light digging.”

  “No rush. I’ll have Shirley email you a list of the other items we’ll require,” Harlan said. “Don’t worry about bringing them in today. I understand how these things take time. We’ll start discussing scenarios. I’ll see you at noon?”

  “Yes. Thanks again. I’ll see you later.”

  I hung up and looked out of the kitchen window. Logan sat on the swing set he’d helped me build last summer, his boot-clad feet scraping the ground, head bent forward, Biscuit stuffed under his arm. He must have slipped outside while I was on the phone. How hadn’t I heard him open the door? Even from this distance I could tell his cheeks were pink from the cold, from crying, or both. Either wa
y it wasn’t good. I knocked on the window, but Logan didn’t raise his head and moved his shoulders closer to his knees.

  I grabbed my boots and jacket, opened the back door, the crisp grass crackling under my weight. When I sat down on the swing next to Logan I kept quiet, a trick Grace used, the theory being he’d talk when he was ready.

  “Why did Mom leave?” he said a minute later, staring ahead of him, his voice tiny.

  “I wish I had an answer, kiddo.” I pulled my jacket tighter, tried to stop the wind from going directly for my soul. “She wasn’t supposed to, and she didn’t want to, I promise.”

  “But she fell.”

  “It was an acci—”

  “She’s so dumb!”

  “Logan, she was—”

  “Fucking dumb! I hate her!” He glared at me, challenging me to say something about his choice of words—ones I’d never heard him say before, didn’t even realize he knew. When I didn’t reply he leaped off the swing, stomped to the door and yanked it open. “I hate you, too!”

  “Logan!”

  He stood still, his hand on the door handle, shoulders rising up and down with every fast breath. I said his name again, but the exhaustion in my voice made the word come out as a pathetic protest, traveling no farther than my nose. I wanted to reprimand him, tell him to apologize to Grace and me, but when he turned around and I saw the hurt in his eyes, my anger pooled at the bottom of my boots and sank into the ground.

  “What?” He raised his chin, narrowed his eyes in another act of defiance.

  Seven thirty. My energy reserves for the day already spent. “You need to eat breakfast.”

  “I’m not hungry!” He disappeared into the house, the door banging shut behind him.

  My grip on the swing tightened. I was ridiculously unprepared for this, for the entire situation. Anyone could see I was about as well equipped as a Formula One driver pulling up to the starting line in a soapbox.

  I sat in the cold, gently moved back and forth until my legs protested that they’d stay bent at the knees until summer if I didn’t get up. It wasn’t until the sugar-dust snowflakes settled on my boots that I finally went inside, where I found Logan curled up in the den, fast asleep with Biscuit and Grace’s photograph wrapped in his arms.