Chapter 9
For a year, my life had narrowed to hospital rooms, invoices, medication schedules, and fear.
I had stopped making plans that extended beyond the next blood test.
I had told myself it was because Tommy needed me.
Partly, that was true.
But perhaps I had also been hiding.
Different darkness.
Same instinct.
It is easier to focus on keeping someone else alive than to ask what you are doing with your own life.
I walked back to Liam’s room.
He was reading Sophie’s letters.
One at a time.
Sunlight filled half the bed.
I didn’t interrupt.
After several minutes he said, “She named a fish after me.”
I laughed.
“Is that flattering?”
“The fish died after eleven days.”
“Less flattering.”
“She says it wasn’t her fault.”
“Clearly a Mercer.”
He looked at me.
“Sophie isn’t a Mercer.”
“Not biologically.”
“No.”
“But?”
His expression softened.
“I raised her from the time she was three until she was seven.”
There it was.
The sentence beneath all the others.
He loved her as a daughter.
And had spent three years convincing himself biology erased that love.
“Then maybe stop acting like DNA gets the final vote.”
He folded the letter.
“You always have an opinion.”
“Free with nursing services.”
That evening Maya called.
Leo brought the phone into Liam’s room.
Liam stared at it.
“You going to answer?”
I asked.
“No.”
“Excellent plan.”
He glared at me.
Then answered.
“Maya.”
I stood to leave.
His hand lifted slightly.
Stay.
So I remained near the window.
I could hear only Liam’s side.
“Yes.”
Pause.
“I got them today.”
Longer pause.
“No.
None.”
He closed his eyes.
“All twenty-seven.”
Whatever Maya said made his jaw tighten.
“I didn’t know.”
Silence.
“I know what you thought.”
Another pause.
“No, I’m not blaming you.”
His voice softened.
“I’m not.”
He listened for almost a minute.
Then he looked at the photograph of Sophie.
“Does she want to see me?”
The question was so quiet that I almost looked away.
Long pause.
Liam’s fingers curled around the phone.
“When?”
His eyes found mine.
“Sunday.”
Two days.
He swallowed.
“Yes.”
When he disconnected, he stared at the screen.
“She wants to come here.”
I smiled.
He didn’t.
“What?”
“I can’t.”
“You just said yes.”
“I made a mistake.”
“Liam.”
“She shouldn’t see me like this.”
“Like what?”
He gestured at his injured leg.
“This.”
“She’s ten.
She understands injuries.”
“She remembers me after the crash.”
“That was three years ago.”
“What if she sees me and remembers everything?”
“What if she sees you and remembers you?”
He looked away.
“What am I supposed to say to her?”
“The truth.”
“That I abandoned her?”
“That you were grieving and made a choice you now regret.”
“She was a child.”
“Yes.”
“I should have been stronger.”
“Maybe.”
He looked surprised that I agreed.
“You were an adult,” I continued.
“She deserved someone who stayed connected.
You didn’t.”
Pain crossed his face.
“But she’s giving you another chance.”
I pointed toward the letters.
“Twenty-seven of them, apparently.”
He said nothing.
“Don’t waste number twenty-eight because you’re busy punishing yourself for numbers one through twenty-seven.”
He looked at me.
“You practice these speeches?”
“Every morning.”
Sunday arrived bright and cool.
By then, Dr.
Kaplan had approved Liam transferring from bed to a specialized wheelchair for short periods.
The first attempt had been ugly.
Not dangerous.
Just difficult.
Liam hated needing help.
“I can do it.”
“You absolutely cannot.”
“I’ve moved before.”
“Not with an external fixator.”
“Move.”
“No.”
“I’m firing you.”
“That threat expired last week.”
Leo held the chair steady while I helped Liam shift.
Sweat appeared at his temple.
“Pain?”
“Three.”
“Liar.”
“Five.”
“Better.”
Once seated, he looked exhausted.
But upright.
That mattered to him.
Sunday morning, he asked Rosa to bring him a dark blue shirt.
Not black.
Blue.
It was a tiny decision.
I noticed.
I said nothing.
At eleven twenty, a car appeared on the drive.
Liam saw it through the open blinds.
His hands tightened around the armrests.
“You can still do this,” I said.
“I negotiate with people who have threatened to bankrupt entire companies.”
“And?”
“This is worse.”
“Yes.”
He looked at me.
“You’re supposed to reassure me.”
“I’m supposed to keep you alive.”
“Bare minimum.”
The front door opened downstairs.
Voices.
Rosa.
Leo.
Then a child laughing softly at something.
Liam closed his eyes.
For one second, I thought he might ask everyone to leave.
Instead he said, “Open the other blind.”
I looked at him.
“All of them?”
“Yes.”
I pulled each cord.
Sunlight filled the room completely.
By the time footsteps reached the hallway, there was nowhere left to hide.
Maya entered first.
She resembled Elena enough that I knew immediately who she was.
Same dark hair.
Same eyes.
Her expression was cautious, but not hostile.
Then Sophie stepped beside her.
She was taller than in the gate photograph.
Yellow sweater.
Jeans.
Dark hair pulled into a loose ponytail.
She looked at Liam.
Liam looked at her.
Nobody spoke.
I felt suddenly intrusive.
I started toward the door.
Sophie looked at me.
“Are you Anna?”
I stopped.
“Yes.”
“Uncle Leo said you made Liam open the windows.”
“They’re blinds.”
Liam muttered, “Thank you.”
Sophie smiled.
The expression transformed her face.
And Liam’s.
“You still correct people,” she said.
For the first time all morning, his shoulders loosened.
“You still exaggerate.”
“I was seven.”
“You were dramatic.”
“I’m ten now.”
“So I see.”
Silence again.
Then Sophie walked closer.
She stopped three feet away from him.
“Did you really not get my letters?”
“No.”
Every trace of humor vanished from Liam’s face.
“I didn’t get them.”
She studied him carefully.
Children are often better at detecting lies than adults assume.
“Would you have answered?”
Liam took a breath.
“I don’t know.”
Maya looked startled.
So did I.
But Liam continued.
“I want to tell you yes.”
He looked directly at Sophie.
“But three years ago, I wasn’t doing very well.”
Sophie glanced at his leg.
“I mean before this.”
“I know.”
He swallowed.
“I was sad.
And angry.
Mostly at myself.”
“Because Mom died?”
“Yes.”
“You thought it was your fault.”
The room became still.
Liam’s voice dropped.
“Yes.”
Sophie shifted her weight.
“I did too.”
Maya’s face tightened.
“Sophie—”
“I know.”
Sophie looked at her aunt.
“I know it wasn’t.”
Then she returned her attention to Liam.
“But when I was seven, I thought you made the car crash.”
Liam absorbed the words.
“I understand.”
“I was mad.”
“You had every right to be.”
“Then I missed you.”
His eyes closed for half a second.
“I missed you too.”
“Then why didn’t you come?”
The hardest question.
May you like
No mystery.
No conspiracy.
