Chapter 33 - Robert's Four Notes
Robert Carter did not deny knowing Anna Mercer.
That frightened Noah more than denial would have.
The call lasted seventeen seconds.
Daniel said:
“Uncle Robert, we need to talk about Anna Mercer.”
Silence.
Then Robert whispered:
“Where did you hear that name?”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“Come to the house.”
Another silence.
Then Robert said:
“I'll be there tomorrow.”
He hung up.
The following morning, Robert arrived alone.
Seventy-two now.
Thin.
Shoulders bent.
Adrian offered to drive him.
Robert refused.
He walked into Daniel's kitchen and stopped when he saw the photograph lying on the table.
Anna.
Robert did not sit.
For a long time, nobody spoke.
Then four soft notes slipped through his lips.
A whistle.
He stopped himself.
Noah felt something cold move through him.
Lydia had been right.
Robert pulled out a chair.
“She's alive?”
Daniel looked at him.
“Anna?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Robert's face collapsed.
“When?”
“Eight months ago.”
He covered his mouth.
Nobody spoke.
Eventually Robert whispered:
“Cancer?”
Noah's eyes narrowed.
“You knew she had cancer?”
“No.”
“But you guessed.”
“Her mother died young from ovarian cancer.”
The specificity ended any remaining doubt about the relationship.
Daniel sat opposite him.
“Was Lydia yours?”
Robert looked at Noah.
Then at Daniel.
“I don't know.”
Noah's patience snapped.
“You had twenty-six years to find out.”
Robert flinched.
“I was told she wasn't.”
“By who?”
Robert closed his eyes.
Noah already knew.
“Margaret.”
Daniel stood.
Robert held up a hand.
“Let me explain.”
Daniel laughed once.
The sound was dangerous.
“Everyone always wants to explain after Margaret is dead.”
Robert stared at the table.
“I met Anna in 1997.”
He swallowed.
“She worked upstairs. Henry liked her. She was smart.”
“Were you married?” Noah asked.
Robert nodded.
“To Adrian's mother?”
“Yes.”
Noah's expression hardened.
Robert continued.
“My marriage was already bad.”
“No.”
Noah interrupted.
“Don't do that.”
Robert looked at him.
“Do what?”
“Use a bad marriage to make an affair sound less like your decision.”
Daniel glanced at Noah.
Robert lowered his head.
“You're right.”
He took a breath.
“I had an affair.”
Simple.
Ugly.
True.
“It lasted about a year.”
“Did Adrian know?”
“No.”
“Did Grandpa?”
“I don't think so.”
“Grandma Margaret?”
“Eventually.”
Robert rubbed both hands over his face.
“Anna told me she was pregnant.”
Noah's chest tightened.
“When?”
“September of 1998.”
“What did you do?”
“I panicked.”
Daniel's jaw tightened.
“Did you offer money?”
“No.”
“Did you tell her to get rid of the baby?”
“No.”
“Did you tell your wife?”
Robert looked away.
“No.”
There it was.
Fear.
The first brick.
“What did you tell Anna?” Noah asked.
“That I needed time.”
“And?”
“She said she wasn't asking me to leave my family.”
Robert's voice cracked.
“She wanted me to acknowledge the child if it was mine.”
Noah remained still.
“Reasonable.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
Robert looked toward the window.
“Margaret found out.”
“How?”
“I told her.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
Robert looked ashamed.
“I thought she would help.”
Daniel laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because every catastrophe in their family seemed to begin with the same sentence.
I thought Margaret would help.
Robert continued.
“She said she would handle it discreetly.”
“What did that mean?”
“She arranged a paternity test.”
Noah froze.
Daniel looked up sharply.
“What?”
Robert nodded.
“Before Lydia was born?”
“Yes.”
“Prenatal?”
“Yes.”
“What was the result?”
Robert whispered:
“Negative.”
Noah stared.
“Where is it?”
“I never had the original.”
Daniel stood.
“You accepted a paternity result you never saw?”
“I saw a copy.”
“From Margaret?”
“Yes.”
Daniel walked away from the table.
Noah remained seated.
“How likely was it that you were the father?”
Robert's eyes filled.
“Very.”
“Were there other men?”
“I don't know.”
“Did Anna believe the test?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“Margaret told me Anna was trying to extort us.”
Robert's voice weakened.
“She showed me letters.”
Noah immediately understood.
“Real?”
“I don't know anymore.”
“And the money?”
Robert nodded.
“She said it was settlement of an employment claim.”
“The twenty-five thousand.”
“Yes.”
“Did you approve it?”
“No.”
“But you didn't stop it.”
Robert said nothing.
Noah looked at the old man sitting before him.
At Margaret's funeral, Robert had cried.
At Adrian's crisis, he had apologized.
At every turning point, Robert saw danger.
And waited.
Henry had written it decades ago.
Robert: sees danger but rarely confronts it.
Noah felt anger rising.
“You could have called Anna.”
“I did.”
“When?”
“After Lydia was born.”
“What happened?”
“The number was disconnected.”
“Did you look for her?”
Robert stared at the table.
“No.”
Noah stood.
“Why?”
“I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Losing my marriage.”
“Your reputation?”
“Yes.”
“Adrian?”
“Yes.”
Noah stared at him.
“And she lost twenty-six years.”
Robert began crying.
“I know.”
“No, you don't.”
“Noah.”
Daniel's voice was quiet.
Noah turned.
Daniel was not defending Robert.
Only slowing him.
Noah took a breath.
Then Robert said:
“There is something else.”
Nobody spoke.
Robert reached inside his jacket.
He removed a small sealed envelope.
It looked old.
Yellowed.
Across the front:
ROBERT.
The handwriting was Anna's.
“I've had this for twenty-seven years.”
Noah stared.
Daniel whispered:
“You said you couldn't find her.”
“I couldn't.”
“Then where did that come from?”
Robert looked sick.
“Margaret gave it to me.”
“When?”
“After the paternity result.”
“Did you open it?”
“No.”
Noah stepped back.
“You kept a letter from the pregnant woman you had an affair with for twenty-seven years and never opened it?”
Robert's voice broke.
“Margaret said it was manipulation.”
Daniel stared at his uncle.
“You believed her?”
“I wanted to.”
That answer stopped the room.
Not believed.
Wanted to.
Robert had not been fooled completely.
He had participated in his own deception because the lie cost him less.
Noah looked at the envelope.
“Open it.”
Robert shook his head.
“No.”
Noah stared.
Robert pushed it toward him.
“You should.”
“It's addressed to you.”
“I know.”
“Then you open it.”
Robert's hands trembled.
He broke the seal.
Inside was one page.
He read.
His face turned white.
Daniel stepped forward.
“What?”
Robert could not speak.
He handed the letter to Noah.
Anna had written:
Robert,
Margaret says the baby isn't yours.
I don't believe her test.
I went to another doctor.
There wasn't enough sample for a full paternity result, but the blood-group result does not exclude you.
Margaret told me if I contact you again, I will never work in this industry.
I don't want money.
I want you to decide for yourself whether you want to know your child.
If you don't, I will leave you alone.
But make that choice yourself.
Not through your sister.
Anna.
At the bottom was a hospital card.
Doctor.
Date.
Telephone number.
Robert sank back.
“She gave me this.”
His voice was barely audible.
“She gave me the letter.”
Daniel looked at him.
“And you chose not to read it.”
Robert covered his face.
Noah looked toward the doorway.
He thought of Lydia.
Twenty-nine years old.
A lawsuit.
Vane Capital.
Forty percent.
A mother dead before truth arrived.
Noah pulled out his phone.
“Who are you calling?” Daniel asked.
“Lydia.”
Robert looked up in terror.
Noah stopped.
“This time, Uncle Robert…”
May you like
He held Robert's gaze.
“…you don't get to decide when she learns the truth.”
