Her Secret Son

by Hannah Mary McKinnon

  “What for?”

  “For being happy, and—”

  “You shouldn’t—”

  “—that you’re in this impossible situation. It’s not fair because—”

  “No, it’s not fair. But it’s not your fault, either. You have every right to be happy, and you should be happy. It’s still a bit odd it’s with Ivan...”

  She let out a leisurely sigh. “He’s such a great guy.”

  “I know. What the hell took you so long?” I laughed and shook my head as Lisa threw a pillow at me, which I promptly caught and threw back. “You’re my favorite people in the world, and the fact you’ve hit it off is brilliant.”

  “You’re sure it doesn’t piss you off?”

  “Not even a little bit,” I said, because it didn’t, not in the way she meant.

  “And it doesn’t gross you out?”

  “Lisa, I’m not ten.” I paused, crossed my arms. “But I’m very worried about you.”

  “Me? Why?”

  I pointed to her slightly rounding stomach. “There’s a kid the size of a giraffe in there.”

  “Ugh, don’t remind me.” She rubbed her belly. “I’m going to be stretched out like bubble gum. I refuse to think about how I’ll push the little bugger out.”

  “Big bugger.”

  “Mammoth bugger.” Lisa chucked the pillow at me again before looking straight at me, her eyes narrowing. “How’s the drinking going?”

  “And here we were, having such a nice chat.”

  “Stop being facetious, Josh.”

  “Oooh. There’s a big word—”

  “Stop. I mean it. Have you been drinking again?”

  “No. I haven’t. I told you, it was a one-off.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes. I’ve got my priorities in order. Don’t worry.”

  “I do worry. All the time. I’m worried you’re going to crumble.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Could have fooled me when we arrived tonight. I wasn’t sure who smelled worse, you, or the poor homeless man I gave my sandwich to.”

  “Gee, thanks a lot. But I’m fine, I promise.”

  She looked at me and must have decided to let it go, for now at least, and we settled on the sofa to watch TV like we were kids again, neither of us needing to make conversation. When Ivan walked back into the room, he sat down, staring at me.

  “What’s up?” I said when I couldn’t ignore him any longer.

  “You went camping close by, huh?” he said.

  “Uh-huh. Close-ish.” I turned to my sister. “Hey, do you want to watch—”

  “You went to Sturbridge,” Ivan said.

  Shit. I’d been deliberately vague when Logan has asked me where we were going, but the kid was smart, reading road signs hardly a challenge for him, and Cookie and his books not nearly enough of a distraction.

  “You went where?” Lisa said.

  I ignored her and looked directly at Ivan. “Yeah. It’s a great campsite, so—”

  “Bullshit,” Lisa said. “I know why you went. You said you’d leave it alone.”

  “You went looking for the Abbotts without telling us?” Ivan said. “What the hell—”

  “Why are you getting so bent out of shape?” I snapped.

  He waved his hands around. “Because I care about you and Logan, you moron. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

  “It was just curiosity, right?” Lisa said. “You didn’t...do anything there?”

  I mumbled something about putting the kettle on, but she wasn’t having any of it.

  “What happened?” she said, lowering her voice. “What did you find?”

  I drummed my fingers on the armrest, trying to figure out how much I should reveal, decided I’d better tell them everything. They wanted to help, both of them. Maybe it was time I let them in completely. Once I’d finished recounting the events in detail, I got up and retrieved the paper bag with the cigarette butt and held it out to my sister. She looked at it for a second, then reached for it and dropped it in her purse without saying another word.

  “Do you need another sample from Logan?” I said.

  She shook her head. “But my friend from the lab is on holiday. It could take a while.”

  “Christ, I need a drink,” Ivan said.

  “Make mine a triple,” I said.

  “Sorry,” he said. “That was stupid. Look, all this is moving so fast. Why not stop—” he held up a hand as I opened my rebuttal-ready mouth “—just for a bit. Give yourself time to think, room to breathe. And us, too.”

  “He’s right,” Lisa said. “Or better yet, forget about it completely. I’ll help you find a job. You can get back to normal, move on—”

  “Move on?” I said, trying to keep my voice down. “Can you two hear what you’re saying? Do you have any idea how this feels? No, you don’t. Because your lives are bloody storybook perfect, aren’t they?”

  Ivan’s jaw clenched and Lisa looked away.

  “How can I move on with this looming over my head?” I continued. “Whatever the truth, my conscience keeps telling me Logan has a right to know. Besides, at some point he’ll need a social insurance number, a passport or some kind of government documentation, won’t he? It’s not a question of if I’ll have to face this shit show, but when. What will I do when he comes looking for his birth certificate, and—”

  “Maybe the next step is getting a fake one,” Lisa said so matter-of-fact, she could have been ordering takeout.

  “Golly gee-whiz with sprinkles on top,” I said, slapping my forehead with the palm of my hand. “Why didn’t I think of that? Hold on. I’ll go print one off the internet right now.”

  Lisa raised her voice. “You don’t need to be an asshole, Josh. I swear you—”

  “Guys,” Ivan said. “Faking a birth certificate...that’s some serious shit right there.”

  “Because this isn’t some serious shit right here already?” I fired off, leaping from the sofa and pacing the room, trying to keep my expanding temper in check yet again. I seemed to spend most of my time angry these days. Angry, defeated and confused. I was sick of it, all of it.

  None of us spoke for a while until Lisa said, “Josh, if he’s Charlie Abbott what will—”

  “Then I’ll have a decision to make,” I said quietly, closing my eyes and pinching the bridge of my nose. “An absolutely impossible one.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  At first, Jennifer Abbott’s pending DNA comparison hung over me like a gleaming ax, ready to slice off my head in one clean swoop. Despite—or probably because of that—I savored every precious moment with Logan, wishing time would slow down, or stop completely.

  We went for walks and ice cream, dug out his kite and flew it at Lincoln Park one gusty morning. The next day we took a trip to Great Sacandaga Lake where the fish successfully dodged all of our attempts to catch them. We ended up lying in the grass, eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, staring at the clouds, pointing out fluffy faces, dragons and boats.

  A few hours were spent bookmarking job listings and checking out flats online. The rent for my favorite one cost significantly less than the house. It had two bedrooms, was right next door to a recreational center and a massive park where we could take Cookie, and fell within the catchment area for Winterhurst Elementary. Not that I was ready to make the decision to move yet, not until I’d secured work, but it felt good to know we had options.

  Logan’s smile returned as he slept in longer each day, the dark bags under his eyes a little smaller and lighter every morning. I had to loosen my belt, thanks to my sister’s best efforts at fattening me up. She and Ivan came over every evening, and little by little I managed to relax. Toward the end of the week, the test results were no longer the very first thing on my mind when I woke up, or the abs
olute last before I fell asleep, and I gradually let myself imagine my future with Logan still in it.

  Lisa’s comment about the forged birth certificate continued to dance around my brain, and the more I thought about it, the more logical it seemed. I called Ivan when Logan was in the shower. “Do you think it’s possible to get one?” I said quietly.

  “Anything’s possible,” Ivan said, “but I can’t imagine it’ll be easy, or cheap. It’s highly illegal, too, I might add. Are you sure that’s a road you’d want to go down?”

  “To protect Logan from a life with the Abbotts? Yes.” When Ivan didn’t reply I added, “Wouldn’t you?”

  “Other than the fact it would probably end my career if I got found out? I don’t know, man,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about how you said Logan has a right to know, and I think that’s fair. Whatever the truth is, it’s Logan’s truth. Do you understand what I’m trying to say? Ultimately it’s his life. He should be able to decide—”

  “What? Whether to live with a deadbeat family that’s already had two kids taken from them? Possibly end up in danger, and definitely without a future?”

  “That’s exactly what Lisa said. She says he won’t have a choice because the law will be on the Abbotts’ side.” He sighed. “Let’s wait and see what the DNA result is.”

  “He’s Charlie. I know he is. Everything fits. I even think he looks like his mom.”

  “In that case are you sure you’re ready to lie to Logan for the rest of his life?”

  “Wait until Lisa has your baby,” I said, “then ask me again. You’ll do anything to protect your kid, trust me. You’ll have emotions you didn’t even know existed.”

  Ivan backed down after that, but my conscience didn’t. Of course I knew my intentions to keep Logan’s true identity a secret were wrong, plain and simple. Consequently, my less than steely resolve to keep the lies going warped and bent, a pendulum swinging back and forth between my options.

  Swish... I don’t have the right to keep Logan from his family.

  Swoosh... I can’t send him to live there. I have to do what’s best for him.

  When Lisa came to the house that evening, I could tell something was up as soon as she walked through the door. Once she’d made sure Logan was in the yard with Cookie, she pulled an envelope from her bag and handed it to me. “I got the results.”

  “Have you looked?” I said.

  She shook her head. “I wanted to but I couldn’t, not without you.”

  The front door opened again and Ivan walked in, dumping his coat and bag by the banister before coming through to the kitchen, planting a kiss on my sister’s cheek. “What’s going on, guys? What’s with the long—” His eyes went wide when he saw the envelope in my hand. “Is that what I think it is? What does it say?”

  My fingers trembled as I held my breath, pulled out the sheet of white paper and unfolded it. This was it. The moment I’d have to decide how to move on, knowing Logan was Charlie. My brow furrowed as I took in the words, read them over and over.

  “It’s not him,” I said. “He’s not Charlie Abbott.”

  “Are you sure?” Lisa grabbed the paper so she could see for herself. “Jesus, I don’t know if I’m relieved or upset. I really thought it was him.”

  “Me, too.” I sat down before my legs gave out. All I’d focused on was the choice I’d have to make about telling Charlie’s family, and now that decision was gone, I almost smiled. “This is better, surely? Logan isn’t Charlie, and the chances of him being either of the other two missing kids—the Faycrest boys—frankly, that’s so remote...”

  “So what now?” Ivan said. “Getting a birth certificate? Because I—”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “I have to be sure.”

  “Sure?” Lisa looked at me wide-eyed. “Sure of what, exactly?”

  “That he isn’t a Faycrest boy,” I said. “I...I think I have to go there.”

  My sister’s eyebrows shot up, a look of absolute horror spreading across her face. “The hell you are! No. No way. You’re insane.”

  “What do you want to do there?” Ivan said.

  “Stop encouraging him,” she said. “Whose side are you on?”

  “The same as with the Abbotts, I guess,” I said. “Get their DNA somehow. We’ll have to stay there for however long—”

  Lisa made a choking noise. “We? What do you mean, we?”

  “Me and Logan.” I held up a hand as she tried to jump in. “Chances are neither family is Logan’s, but I have to be sure.”

  “And if you’re right?” Ivan said. “If he’s not one of those boys?”

  “Then I’ll come back and I’ll stop looking.”

  “You won’t go to the police?” Lisa said. “At all?”

  “No,” I whispered. “I won’t, but if I don’t go to Faycrest, every time I look at him I’ll wonder what if... I know you don’t get it, but I have to know. I need to.”

  Lisa’s face flushed a deep red. She opened her mouth to say something else, but instead got up and stormed out of the kitchen.

  “Is there any sense in my trying to sway you?” Ivan said.

  “No,” I answered slowly. “I’ve already made up my mind.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Lisa, Ivan and Logan were eating homemade, face-sized blueberry pancakes when I got up the next morning. Cookie lay on the kitchen floor with half a bowl of abandoned food by her side, and only bothered to cock one ear, give her tail a single wag when she caught sight of me. It was a more enthusiastic reception than I got from Lisa, who barely threw me a glance. In contrast, Logan bounced off his chair and flung his arms around me.

  “Dad! Aunt Lisa said she’ll take me swimming today.”

  She forced a smile I could only presume was for Logan’s benefit. “I thought it’d be nice to spend as much time with him as I can,” she said, shooting me a withering look.

  “Can I go, can I?” Logan hopped from one foot to the other. “Please, Dad, please?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Let me wake up for a sec. Dang it, I forgot my socks.”

  “I’ll get them.” Logan dashed off, thundered up the stairs.

  “Brush your teeth and get dressed while you’re up there,” I called after him, and once he was out of earshot I turned around. “About yesterday—”

  “I hardly slept,” Lisa said. “But it gave me time to think. A lot. And I’ve decided—”

  “You’ve decided?” I said.

  She sighed. “Don’t make this another argument, Josh. Listen, if you go to Faycrest, Logan should stay here because—”

  “Excuse me?” I said. “You’re not his mom, Lisa. And you sure as hell aren’t mine. You don’t get to tell me what I can do with my kid so—”

  “Josh, she’s not trying to tell you what to do,” Ivan said as he pushed the plate of pancakes and the bottle of syrup toward me. “Just hear her out.”

  I sat back and crossed my arms. “Go on, then.”

  “It’ll be much quicker,” Lisa said. “Think about it. If you’re there on your own, you can get in, get the DNA samples and get out. It’ll be easier without Logan there.”

  “And what if he is one of the Faycrest boys?” Ivan added. “And looks like the parents?”

  “He doesn’t,” I said. “Not that I could tell from the photos and all the footage. I mean, there are some similarities, sure, but nothing blatantly obvious. And I told you, the chance of him being either of them is so small—”

  “Well, you’ll still need a cover story for being there,” Lisa said.

  “A cover story?”

  “Yeah, maybe something about looking for work or thinking about moving to the area,” she continued. “Worst case you say you’re a writer, researching missing kids for a novel.”

  I picked at a pancake, wondering how Logan would co
pe without me, decided he’d be fine. He loved Lisa and Ivan; he might even be glad for the change. The real question was how I’d cope without him, knowing it could be some of the last weeks we might spend together. “I can’t leave him. You’re working, and—”

  “I run my own business,” Lisa said. “I’ll work from home for a week. Two if need be. It’s not going to take you longer, is it?”

  “I’ll help her,” Ivan said. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  “I looked at summer camps last night,” Lisa said, pulling out her phone. “Found loads of them Logan will go crazy for, and he’d be gone for most of the day, so you can stop worrying.”

  “But—”

  “Let him have some fun,” she said. “It’ll do him good to be with kids his age.”

  “You agree with this?” I said to Ivan. “Or has my sister expertly manipulated you like a giant piece of Play-Doh?”

  “Whatever,” he replied. “But for what it’s worth, I think she’s right. About everything. Nobody will know him at camp, or what happened to his mom, or at school... Maybe it’ll give him a break, help him make new friends.”

  “What about fluff ball here?” I said. “What’ll we do with Cookie?”

  “Leave her with us, too,” Lisa said. “If Logan goes to camp, I’ll take her to the office. The guys there love dogs.”

  “You’re such a great boss.” Ivan put his arms around her, pulled her toward him.

  “Get a room you two,” I said. “Actually, don’t. That’s what got you into this trouble.”

  “Actually,” Lisa said, raising an eyebrow, “it was a faulty diaphragm.”

  I stuck my fingers in my ears, closed my eyes. “La-la-la-la-la. Not listening.”

  She pulled my hands away. “So we’ve agreed? You go on your trip, if you must, but Logan stays here?”

  “You’re going away?” Logan was behind us, his voice small, frightened. “Dad?”

  I spun around. He stood in the doorway looking up at me, a deep-set frown on his face.

  “Maybe,” I said as I knelt down in front of him. “We’re just talking about it, and it wouldn’t be long. A week, two at the most.”