Porcelain Keys

by Sarah Beard

  A movement in the doorway caught my eye, and I turned to see Dad standing there, staring at me. I didn’t know how long he’d been there, but I instinctively hid the letter behind my back. It was too late, though. His slight grimace told me he’d already seen it and the music box on my bed.

  I watched his face, waited for his jaw to tighten and his neck to redden, but instead, only relief swept over his face. “Looks like Thomas found it.”

  It took me a minute to register his words, and I narrowed my eyes. “You knew he was looking for it?”

  “How do you think he found it?”

  My mouth dropped open. “You told him where it was?”

  He stepped into the room and shut the door quietly behind him. “As well as I could remember. I went up to the lake with him the day before yesterday to help him, but we didn’t find it. I thought he’d give up—it’s like picking through ice up there.”

  I stared at him, at the man who had raised me, who had fed and clothed me, and the truth slowly sunk in. This man was not my father. In the space of a few minutes, he had become foreign, almost unrecognizable. I didn’t know how to feel or what to say. He knew he was not my father. He had known since Mom died. And he had kept the truth from me.

  I dropped the letter on the bed and rose to my feet. “You knew, all this time.” My chin began to quiver and angry tears pricked my eyes. I forced them back. “How could you keep this from me?”

  With a pained expression, he motioned to the bed. “Sit down,” he instructed.

  I stayed where I was, not taking my eyes off him.

  He sighed and sunk into the desk chair, leaning forward with his forearms on his legs. “Like I told you a couple years ago, I kept it from you to protect you.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t understand. Make me understand.”

  He lowered his head and clenched his hair in his hands. After a lengthy pause, he said, “When she died and I found that letter, I was crushed.”

  “But why keep it from me? Why keep everything from me that mattered to me?”

  He straightened. His face became distant, the way it used to when I knew he was thinking about Mom. But this time, instead of quietly withdrawing within himself, he opened up and let his secrets fall out. “As if losing my wife wasn’t enough to suffer, I learned that she’d lied to me all these years, and that the daughter who I’d loved and raised as my own for twelve years wasn’t even mine.” A ripple traveled across his chin and he rubbed it with the back of his hand to still it. “I took that music box and its contents up to the lake and sat there all day trying to figure out what to do. I was so angry and hurt. But I realized that if she hadn’t loved me, she would have left me when she first found out she was pregnant. I tried to see it from her point of view, and I knew she’d just made a terrible mistake. Even though it had been wrong of her to keep it secret, she was only trying to do what she thought was best for our marriage, and for you.

  “And then I thought about you . . .” He fixed a heartbroken gaze on me. “About how much I loved you and how hard it would be to give you up. I tried to think about what was best for you. You’d already lost your mom. How could I take away the person you’d known as your father as well?” He shook his head. “I just didn’t think you could bear losing your mom and me all in the same swipe.”

  The crushing weight of truth bore down on me, and I feared my knees would buckle if I heard anymore. But I needed to hear more. I needed to know everything. I backed up and sat on the bed to avoid collapsing.

  “I finally decided that biology didn’t matter,” he continued. “You were still my daughter. My name was on your birth certificate. No one would ever know. So I buried the music box and the letters, intending to keep the truth from you forever. But . . .” He gave a sigh, and his face crumpled into a tormented expression. “What I didn’t anticipate was how much resentment and pain I would feel. I couldn’t bear to hear you play the piano—not because Karina played, but because I knew your father was a musician too. All I could think of when I heard you play was that you were not mine, you were Nathaniel’s. I wanted to be a good father to you, Aria. I wanted to continue to love you and give you everything you deserved. But I failed you. I harmed you. And I’ll never forgive myself for treating you the way I did.” His hand came to his face and he bent over in quiet anguish.

  I sat watching him, unsure how to react, how to feel. Here was this man who should’ve been my father, who should have loved me and supported me, but instead had hurt me, neglected me, and twisted knives into my already gaping wounds. Now he was sorry. Now he finally saw the pain he had caused me. Deep down, I wanted to forgive him, to forget every horrible thing that had occurred between us, but I didn’t know how. “Why now?” I asked. “Why tell me now? Why this way?”

  After regaining some control, he straightened and said, “I wasn’t going to tell you. I fixed your mom’s piano, and I was going to just try and fix things between us without telling you the truth. But then Thomas showed up last week and asked me about the music box. He said he owed you something, and he begged me to tell him where it was so he could retrieve it for you.

  “And I started thinking. I remembered how upset you were when you left for New York, when I wouldn’t tell you about your mom’s letters. And I realized that if I wanted a chance at obtaining your forgiveness, you would have to know the whole truth. I didn’t know how to tell you myself though, so I decided to let your mother tell you in the way she originally intended. I drew Thomas a map of where I thought the music box was, but after a couple of days with no success, I went up there with him. I pinpointed the area where I’d buried it and we dug all day but didn’t find it. He must have found it yesterday.”

  I waited for a response to form in my mind or for feelings to flood me, but nothing came. I felt detached, like I was watching a scene from afar.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said, “for not loving you the way you deserved. For taking something painful and making it worse. I wish I could go back . . .”

  The door swung open and Devin popped his head in, all bleary-eyed and tousled. “Hey. Merry Christmas.”

  Dad slowly stood. He hooked his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans and looked down at me. “One more thing, Aria. The piano downstairs—it’s yours. Whenever you’re ready to take it, it will be here for you.”

  He walked out of the room, nodding at Devin as he passed him. Completely oblivious to the heavy mood in the room, Devin joined me on the bed, putting an arm around me and kissing my head. “Fabulous,” he said with a huge grin. “I was thinking what a waste it was to have that amazing instrument sit here collecting dust. I hope you’ll let me play it on occasion.” He glanced at the torn wrapping paper and the music box on my bed. “What’s this?”

  I couldn’t answer. My pulse was throbbing so loudly that Devin’s voice sounded muffled in my ears. All I could think about was Nathaniel. He’s my father, I thought. My name should have been Aria Borough.

  I needed to see him, to tell him the truth, and I needed to tell him now. I looked into Devin’s eyes. “Devin, there’s something I need to do this morning. It’s really important, and it can’t wait.”

  “Okay,” he said warily. “What’s that?”

  “I need to go see Nathaniel. Alone.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Does this have something to do with Thomas?”

  “No. Thomas is gone.”

  A look of relief washed over his face. “Then what is it? Why do you need to go alone?”

  “I just do.”

  “Well, can’t it at least wait until after we have breakfast and open some presents?”

  I considered briefly, but the need to see Nathaniel was so overwhelming that it would be excruciating to delay. “No. I’m sorry.” I stood and opened my suitcase to find something to wear. “But I’ll be back for lunch.”

  “Then at least tell me why you have to go.”

  “I can’t.” I shook my head. “It’ll take too long. I’ll explain whe
n I get back.”

  “Aria—” he groaned. “Don’t make me sit here all morning speculating. You’ve already given me enough anxiety these last couple days to triple my Ativan dosage. Just give me an abbreviated explanation and I promise I won’t ask any more questions.”

  I stared at his worried face. “I’m sorry, Devin.” I released a heavy sigh. “All right—I’m going to Nathaniel’s because I just found out he’s my real father.”

  After a stunned moment of silence, he said, “Oh.”

  “And I don’t think I want to stay here another night. Would you mind if we stayed at Nathaniel’s tonight?”

  He slowly nodded, his face sober. “Of course not.”

  I kissed him on the cheek, then took my clothes to the bathroom to get ready.

  ~

  I knocked on Nathaniel’s door and bounced on my toes, needing to channel my anxiousness somewhere. Nathaniel opened the door, his face surprised.

  “Merry Christmas,” I said.

  “Aria! I wasn’t expecting you so early.”

  “I had a change of plans.”

  “Well, come in.”

  I stepped in slowly, my legs feeling shaky beneath me.

  “Where’s Devin?”

  “I wanted to come alone.”

  “Listen,” he said, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Thomas. I was going to, but then—” He put a hand on my shoulder and his face turned concerned. “Are you all right? You don’t look well. Here, come sit down.” He guided me to the couch and I gratefully sat.

  He sat next to me, and I stared at him. He suddenly looked so different. I studied his face with renewed interest, wonder even. It was so strange to think I was looking at my father, when that image had always been filled by someone else.

  “Aria, what’s going on?”

  I dropped my eyes and took a deep breath. “Before my mom died, she wrote me some letters. My dad—Jed—kept them from me.”

  Nathaniel’s expression went slack, and I watched as the color drained from his face.

  “Yesterday,” I continued, “Thomas found the letters for me.”

  Nathaniel cleared his throat and swallowed. “Where were they?”

  “Buried in a music box by a lake near my old house.”

  His brows pursed. “That’s odd.”

  I found myself staring at him again, looking for traces of myself in his face. His eyes, I noted, were the same shade of blue as mine. “One of the letters was torn up. I had to tape it together to read it.” I took the letter out of my purse. It was folded in half. The letter shook in my hand, so I dropped it in my lap.

  “What does it say?” he asked anxiously.

  I picked it up and handed it to him. “You read it,” I said, my voice weak with emotion.

  He took the letter and unfolded it. He read a few lines, then stood and walked to the other side of the room, leaning on the piano for support. His face was turned away so I couldn’t see his expression. He read for another minute, then dropped the letter to his side. He bent his head and grasped the corner of the piano. I couldn’t tell if he was angry or just shocked. Then he turned to face me. There were tears in his eyes, and he looked worried. He took a step toward me. “Aria, how do you feel about this?” His voice was thick.

  “It’s like the missing puzzle piece of my life. Only now other ones have gone missing. I’m still trying to make sense of it all.”

  He came and sat beside me. “But how do you feel? About . . . me being your father?”

  I hadn’t yet overcome the hurdle of shock to consider my feelings. I looked at Nathaniel, at his anxious face, and considered them now. “I’m . . . relieved. Happy, even.”

  His shoulders dropped a notch and his face relaxed in relief.

  “And I already love you like a father,” I confessed, giving him a little smile I hoped would ease his concerns.

  New tears welled up in his eyes and he put an arm around me, pulling me to his side. I rested my head on his shoulder, and we stayed like that for a long time—me soaking in the truth, him occasionally lifting a hand to wipe tears from his face. His embrace felt so natural and comforting, like it was where I belonged, where I should have been for the last nineteen years of my life.

  Eventually, he pulled away to look at me. “I have to admit—I had my suspicions.”

  “Since you came to see me in New York?”

  He nodded. “When you told me your birthday was in August.”

  “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “Because I didn’t know for sure. Your mom got remarried right after our divorce, so it was possible that Jed really was your father. I thought maybe she lied to me about your birthday just to avoid speculation on my part.” He sighed. “But just the possibility of you being my daughter . . . it unhinged me. I couldn’t stop thinking about everything I’d missed out on, how I’d been cheated out of raising my own daughter. I cried for weeks after.” He patted my arm and smiled at me. “But all is as it should be now, isn’t it? To know the truth and to be able to move forward is all I need. I must say this is the best Christmas gift I have ever received.” A perplexed look crossed his face. “Though things could have been so different if she had told me. If only I’d—” He released a sad sigh. “If only I hadn’t been so selfish back then.”

  “Nathaniel, why didn’t you tell me you’d been married to my mom?”

  “Because when she came to see me before she died, she asked me not to tell you. I didn’t understand why, but I couldn’t deny a dying woman’s wish. And now that I think back on it, maybe she was trying to prevent the truth from coming out when you were too young to handle it.” Slowly, his expression turned concerned. “Does your dad—I mean, does Jed know?”

  “He’s known since my mom died.”

  “Well, that explains a lot.” He grimaced. “No wonder he wouldn’t let me see you. That must have been hard for him to take.”

  “It was. It still is, I think.”

  “Well, I’m sorry for him. Kind of. I’d be a lot more sorry for him if he hadn’t mistreated you the way he did. Let me give you my first official piece of fatherly advice: Men are scum. Stay far away from them.”

  “I’ve heard that before,” I said with a smile. “But I don’t think it’s true. Most of the men I know are good.” My thoughts immediately turned to Thomas. “Nathaniel—why didn’t you tell me that Thomas would be in town?”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry about that.” He cringed. “I got a call from him a couple weeks ago. He wanted to know where he could find you. He said he needed to see you as soon as possible and he didn’t want to waste time going to New York if you weren’t there. I was pretty hard on him—I knew how much you’d progressed and that you were finally moving on with your life. I didn’t think you needed him showing up and messing things up all over again, and I told him so. He started going on about how much he loved you and how sorry he was, and I didn’t want to hear his sorry excuses so I ended the call. But then something started to eat at me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There was something in his voice—this heartbreaking sound that reminded me of the way I felt when Karina left me the last time. I took pity on him and called him back to tell him you’d be in Woodland Park for Christmas.”

  “But why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I wasn’t sure if he’d actually show up. And I didn’t want you to expect him and then be let down again.”

  I nodded in understanding.

  “How did it go, by the way?” he asked.

  I sighed and dropped my chin into my hand. “Terrible. But . . . wonderful. I’ve never been so confused in my life.” I told Nathaniel everything that had happened with Thomas over the past few days, from his shocking reappearance to the priceless gift he’d unearthed.

  Nathaniel put his hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eye. “I see so much of Karina in you. She chose Jed because she perceived him to be the safer choice. Things weren’t perfect between us, but
we loved each other. I never would have done anything to hurt her. We could have worked out our differences, but she was too afraid to try.”

  He looked into my eyes with earnestness. “It’s good to be careful, but just make sure the choices you make to keep you safe don’t also keep you from what makes you happy. I saw how miserable you were when Thomas left. It was like a piece of you was missing. You still love him—I can see it in your face. Why not give it a chance?”

  I thought about what he said, but I was still so scared.

  “Just think about it,” he said.

  I nodded. “I will.”

  twenty-five

  As I drove back to Jed Kinsley’s house, I began to emerge from the frozen shell of shock that had surrounded me the past few hours. As my emotions began to thaw, tears trickled down my cheeks like water dripping from melting ice. But each tear only served to thaw my emotions further, and before I could stop it, a deluge burst forth, leaving me no choice but to pull over and surrender to waves of uncontrollable sobs.

  I felt dizzy, like I was a piece of clay on a potter’s wheel. It had been spinning for the past nineteen years, shaping and carving the vessel of my life. All that had happened in the past few days, with Thomas returning and Mom’s secrets being unearthed, had shattered that vessel into a million pieces. Up until this moment, I had only stood there in shock, staring at the pieces and trying to decide if it was salvageable. But now I realized that it wasn’t. I could sweep up the pieces and try to put them back together, but they would never fit together the same way again.

  I thought about Mom, about the burden of guilt she must have carried alone all those years. If only she’d just told the truth from the beginning. But I couldn’t bring myself to harbor a grudge against her for her mistake. From the words in her letter she was clearly remorseful, and I freely forgave her.