you yet.”
“You let me bury you.”
“I know.”
“You let me believe you were d/e/@/d.”
“I know.”
“You let me spend seven years talking to your photograph!”
Rachel turned away.
Calvin lowered his head.
Dorothy whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?”
My voice cracked.
“Is Melissa alive?”
Silence.
“Dorothy.”
“Yes.”
My knees weakened.
I sat.
“Where?”
“I can’t tell you over the phone.”
“Then come home.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because Samuel is watching you.”
“He says he’s our son.”
Another silence.
“He is.”
I closed my eyes.
“You had a child and never told me?”
“I thought he was d/e/@/d.”
“What does my father have to do with this?”
“Everything.”
Her voice became urgent.
“Tom, listen carefully. Your father didn’t give Samuel away because he hated him.”
“Then why?”
“He believed Samuel wasn’t yours.”
I stared at the wall.
“What?”
“Your father was wrong.”
“How do you
