“It isn’t.” Ellen looked at the other side of the table, where Bill Braverman sat glaring in a sport jacket and polo shirt, next to his lawyer, Mike Cusack, who dressed like him.
“So why are we all sitting here?” Bill demanded, his eyes flashing with anger.
Ellen composed herself, folding her hands on the conference table, and took a deep breath.
Chapter Ninety-four
“Okay, here goes.” Ellen paused, her heart in her throat. She was about to drop a bomb, and she met Bill’s eye with sympathy. “The fact is, you’re not Will’s father.”
“That’s a lie!” Bill shot back.
“It’s true, and I have proof.”
“You’re insulting me and my wife!”
Cusack placed a restraining hand on Bill’s arm. “Please, allow me.”
“Why should I?” Bill tore his arm away, glaring at Ellen. “You don’t fool me for one minute! What kind of scam is this?”
“It’s not a scam.”
“Ms. Gleeson,” Cusack broke in, looking askance. “You should be aware that intentional infliction of emotional distress is civilly actionable, and we won’t hesitate to file suit against you.”
Ron frowned. “I won’t let you threaten her, Mike.”
“But this is an Internet scam, obviously.” Cusack raised a graying eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you were taken in by that stupid email. Are you sending money to Ethiopian ambassadors, too?”
“It’s not a scam, I assure you,” Ron said, his tone even and reasonable.
Special Agent Manning cleared his throat. “Let’s settle down and let Ms. Gleeson tell us what this is all about.”
“Thank you.” Ellen gathered her thoughts. “To make a long story short, when I was in Miami, I got DNA samples from both Carol and Bill Braverman. I followed them to a restaurant, and I collected some cigarette butts that Bill left in an ashtray—”
“You did what?” Bill interjected, rising, but Cusack pressed him back down.
“—I also got a Diet Sprite can that Carol drank from, and I sent them both to a lab that I found on the Internet.”
“This is ridiculous!” Bill slammed the table with a heavy hand, but Ellen stayed the course. She couldn’t blame Bill for his reaction, but neither was she backing down.
“I got the results emailed to me, and Ron forwarded the email with the results to you. Honestly, I’d forgotten about the tests, and I had no doubt that Will was really Timothy, after that night in my kitchen. Rob Moore said that his girlfriend was Amy Martin, and I knew that Amy was the one who put Will, or Timothy, up for adoption.”
Next to her, Ron added, “It’s a perfect chain of custody.”
“It is,” Special Agent Manning said, and though Ellen didn’t speak law enforcement, she got the gist.
“The results of the test came back, and they show that Carol was clearly Will’s biological mother. But Will has none of Bill’s DNA. The results are that Bill is not Will’s father.”
“You’re saying that Carol cheated on me?” Bill’s eyes flew open.
“I’m sorry, she must have.” Ellen felt terrible for him, but still. “You said your marriage wasn’t the best.”
“She wouldn’t!” Bill flushed red. “She didn’t, and she certainly wouldn’t fool me into thinking another man’s child was mine!”
“I’m sorry, I really am.” Ellen took a second to compose herself, then said the words she’d been rehearsing all the way here. “Will is not your son, so you have no legal right to him. My adoption remains legal, and I want my son back.”
Ron added, “My research showed the law would be the same in almost all jurisdictions, including Florida. As Carol has no living parents, Ellen is entitled to keep Will.”
“This is a trick!” Bill shouted, jumping to his feet.
“Based on an Internet DNA test?” Cusack remained in his chair, his expression only slightly less hostile. “What do you take us for?”
Special Agent Manning waved Bill into his seat, and he complied, albeit angrily.
“It’s a legitimate lab,” Ellen said, willing herself to remain calm. She had discussed the way this meeting would go with Ron, who was her first phone call after she read the email. “But if you want to run another test to confirm the results, you’re welcome to.”
“I’m welcome to?” Bill repeated, incredulous.
“I will agree to a lab of the FBI’s choosing, with the test to be administered under their supervision.”
“I won’t take any damn DNA test!” Bill’s jaw set with determination. “Timothy’s my son, and I’m keeping him!”
Ron raised a finger in his professorial way. “As a legal matter, we could require you to take a DNA test. If we take this matter to court right now, any judge would order you to do so, and my client and I are more than prepared. In fact, bear with me.” Ron reached into an accordion-style briefcase sitting on the floor, extracted a manila folder, then opened it, slid out some papers, and handed them to Special Agent Manning, Bill, and Cusack. “These papers are ready to file. I have an emergency judge standing by. It’s your choice, Mr. Braverman. If you and Will don’t voluntarily take the DNA test, the court will order you to do so. I’ll also ask the court to place Will in protective custody in the interim, so that you don’t leave the jurisdiction with him.”
“You have to be kidding!” Bill grabbed the papers from the center of the table and skimmed the front page, his eyes darting rapidly left and right, his mouth pursed in fury.
But Ellen could see that Cusack, sitting next to him and reading the papers, lifted his eyebrow again.
Ron added, “Mike, if you’d like a minute alone with your client, Ellen and I would be happy to step outside.”
Cusack looked up after a minute, deep in thought. “Yes, thank you. I’d like to confer with my client.”
Ellen and Ron rose from the table, left the conference room, and went into the hallway, where they closed the door behind them and Ron placed a fatherly hand on her shoulder.
“Ellen, don’t get excited.” His brow furrowed. “You have to remember that the Internet lab could be wrong. Even the most reliable labs get false results on tests, all kinds of tests, and I don’t want you to get your hopes up.”
“They’re not that fly-by-night,” Ellen said, but she knew better. “Jerry Springer uses them.”
Ron smiled. “Remember, plan for the worst and you’ll be happily surprised.”
“Way to kill the mood, counselor.”
Fifteen endless minutes later, the door to the conference room opened, and Special Agent Manning stuck out his head. “We’re ready for you,” he said simply.
Chapter Ninety-five
Ellen filed into the conference room with Ron behind her and took her seat at the table across from Cusack. Bill had deserted his chair but was standing by the window, his arms folded and his expression grim. Ellen saw the strain around his eyes and knew that he was more anguished than angry, and her heart went out to him.
Cusack began, “We’ve decided, in a spirit of cooperation, to undertake a DNA test. The FBI has recommended a lab that it uses all the time, and we’ll be taking the samples of Bill and Timothy tonight.”
“We’ll fast-track it,” Special Agent Manning interjected. “We should have the results by Monday.”
Ellen felt her heart pounding but didn’t show any emotion, for Bill’s sake.
Cusack continued, “However, we don’t believe it’s necessary to place Timothy in protective custody with the Bureau, pending the results. Timothy is at the Four Seasons with a babysitter that comes highly recommended. Bill would like to keep the boy with him at the hotel and he won’t leave the jurisdiction. We trust you’ll agree.” Cusack fell silent, awaiting Ellen’s response.
So did Bill, by the window, his arms folded, and Ron, who cocked his head, his smile characteristically gentle.
“What do you want to do, Ellen?” he asked. “You can leave him with Bill until the tests come back, or the FB
I can make him comfortable in a hotel.”
Special Agent Manning added, “The Four Seasons isn’t in our budget.” He chuckled, huh huh, but nobody else did.
Ellen’s eyes met Bill’s from across the room, and she felt their shared bond. This situation was no-win, at every turn. As for protective custody, it had been Ron’s idea. She didn’t really want Will to stay with a cop. It only took Ellen a minute to make her decision:
“I trust that Bill will take good care of him, and right now, that’s what’s best for him. I don’t want to disrupt him again if the test is wrong.”
“Thanks,” Cusack said, and Ron nodded.
But Bill didn’t reply, just turned away and gazed out the window into the cold, dark night. He was facing the prospect of losing his son.
And Ellen knew exactly how he felt.
Chapter Ninety-six
A new snow had fallen, covering the minivans, swing sets, and lawn furniture in pristine white. The afternoon sky was sunny and bright blue, and the wind frigid and fresh, as if the deep freeze had killed every last germ, leaving only the healthiest and most wholesome air. Ellen breathed it in, standing on her porch with no coat like a crazy lady, folding her arms against her chest, her hair freshly shampooed, her sweater dry cleaned, and her socks laundered and matching. She even had on new clogs.
“Ellen, we could wait inside,” Marcelo said, standing on her right.
“Nah, let’s stay here,” her father said, on her left.
“I agree,” Barbara said, next to her father in her lovely white coat.
Behind them, Connie stood with her husband, Chuck. She said, “Wild horses couldn’t drag me off this porch.”
They all smiled, Ellen most of all, despite the reporters, TV anchor-persons, and photographers who mobbed the sidewalk in front of her house and spilled into the street, shouting questions, taking videos and pictures, and requiring five uniformed cops to keep traffic moving.
Marcelo smiled, puzzled. “Let me get this straight. It’s freezing outside, but we’re on the porch?”
“Right,” Ellen and her father answered in unison, then they looked at each other.
“Great minds,” her father said, and Ellen laughed.
Marcelo threw an arm around her shoulder. “You know what? I like it.”
“Good,” she said, snuggling against him.
Suddenly a black sedan turned onto the street, and Ellen felt her heart start to thunder. She stepped forward for a closer look, and the sedan slowed when it reached the photographers, who started hoisting videocameras to their shoulders. The sedan’s emergency lights went on, flashing yellow as it braked in front of the house.
“My God,” Ellen said under her breath, already in motion, and the press surged forward, pointing their cameras and microphones to the sedan. The doors were opening, and Bill emerged from the driver’s side and Cusack from the passenger’s. Reporters swarmed them with cameras and microphones, and Ellen ran down the front walk toward the crowd, and in the next instant she heard a little voice from its center.
“Mommy! MOMMY!”
“WILL!” Ellen shouted, tears blurring her eyes as she hit the crowd and elbowed her way through, reaching the sedan just as Bill unlatched Will from the car seat and carried him through the crazed reporters to her.
“MOMMY!” Will screamed, his arms reaching for her, and Ellen took him in her arms and hugged him so tightly she almost squished him.
“It’s all right, it’s all right now,” she said, as Will burst into tears and wrapped his arms around her neck. Reporters shouted questions and stuck cameras in their faces, but Ellen caught Bill’s eye, and his expression was pained. She called to him, “Want to come in, have a soda?”
“No thanks,” Bill called back, then gestured vaguely at Will. “I got him new shoes.”
“Thanks.” Ellen felt a stab of sympathy. “Another time, then?”
“See you,” Bill said, his eyes on Will’s back. Grief flickered through his expression, then he turned away amid the clicking cameras, and so did Ellen, with a guilt that vanished in happiness when Marcelo, her father, and Chuck arrived at her side and ran interference as she hurried back up her front walk, hustled across the porch to the open front door, and swept inside the warm, snug house.
Will didn’t touch the ground until half an hour later, after being passed from mother to grandfather to mother to new stepgrandmother to mother to Marcelo to Connie and Chuck then back again to Ellen, until he had stopped crying and everybody held him tight, kissed him too much, and reassured themselves by feeling his weight in their arms that he was, really, safely, and finally back home.
Ellen felt her heart truly at peace for the first time since she’d first seen that white card, so long ago. She set Will down in the living room, but, oddly, he frowned, even as he stood at the center of an adoring circle. His glistening eyes scanned the room, ignoring the twisted streamers of green crepe, the green helium balloons on the ceiling, and even the pile of wrapped gifts from a love-crazed family.
“What’s the matter, sweetie?” Ellen asked, puzzled. She reached down and ruffled his soft hair with her fingers. She thought she might never stop touching his hair.
“Where’s Oreo Figaro, Mommy?”
“Oh. He was here a minute ago,” Ellen answered, looking around, and in the next second, they both spotted the cat under the dining room table, running from all the commotion, a black-and-white blur with a tail like an exclamation point.
“There he goes!” Will hollered, taking off after the cat, who bounded into the kitchen.
“Uh-oh.” Ellen went after Will, and everyone watched him, collectively holding their breaths. They had all discussed how he would react to seeing the kitchen again, and she had talked to a child psychologist who’d told her to let Will take the initiative in asking questions. The therapist had also approved her redecorating idea, and she prayed Will would, too. She held her breath when he reached the kitchen threshold.
“Mommy!” Will hollered, surprised. “Look in here!”
“I know, it’s a surprise for you.” Ellen came up behind him and rested a hand on his head. She and Marcelo had worked in the kitchen all weekend, installing laminated wood over the subfloor and painting the walls to cover the bloodstains. The wall color had been the easiest choice, although when sunlight flooded in through the back window, the room looked like it was growing. She doubted she’d ever get used to a bright green kitchen, nor should she.
“It’s my favorite!” Will exclaimed, then grabbed the cat, and gave him a kiss. “I love you, Oreo Figaro.”
“I love you, too,” Ellen replied, in her Oreo Figaro voice.
Will giggled and set the cat back on the floor. “Can I open my presents now?”
“Yes, but gimme a kiss first.” Ellen bent over, and Will threw his arms around her neck. If she was expecting a big reunion kiss, she wasn’t getting one, not when there were gifts waiting to be unwrapped. Will ran out of the room, and she called after him, “Love you!”
“Love you, too!”
Ellen went to the cabinet and got a trash bag for the gift wrap, then straightened up, remembering that the last time she had stood here, she had killed a man. She turned to the wall where Moore had slid down, as if to reassure herself that it wouldn’t still be bloodied.
But it was.
A sudden horrific flashback shot out of nowhere. Before her eyes, Moore slumped against the wall. Bright red blood spurted from a deep hole in his forehead. A crooked grin crossed his face.
Ellen froze, remembering. That smile was crooked because it turned down on the right. Like Will’s.
She put it together, stunned. She hadn’t noticed it then, because she was sure that Bill Braverman was Will’s father. But now that she knew that he wasn’t, the crooked grin assumed a new significance. Then she remembered what Moore had said that night to Carol.
You shoulda said to him, “Honey, wifey-poo isn’t the good girl you think.”
Ellen stared
at the wall, but it had turned green again. She stood a moment, shaken, trying to collect her thoughts, trying to process what she had just learned.
If Bill wasn’t Will’s father, she had at least a guess who was.
Epilogue
About a year later, there was another winter snow and another party with wrapped presents, balloons, and crepe streamers crisscrossing the living room, which this time was packed with noisy, sugar-fueled classmates of Will’s. They ran back and forth, played with new toys, ate grocery-store sheet cake, and generally wreaked havoc for his fourth birthday.
“Watch out!” Will shrieked, running with a new laser sword, and Ellen grabbed it from him on the fly.
“Don’t run with this.”
“Please!”
“No, you’ll hurt somebody.”
“Aw, Mom!” Will took off after his friend Brett, and Ellen’s father came over, his eyes glittering with mischief.
“I’ll take that weapon, my lady.”
“What for?” Ellen handed it over.
“You’ll see. This will do nicely.” Her father examined the laser sword, and Barbara joined him in her elegant white pantsuit, a multicolored party hat perched atop her head.
“Ellen, don’t let him have that. He’ll embarrass us all.”
“Too late for that,” Ellen said with a smile. She had come to love Barbara, who wisely hadn’t tried to replace her mother, because no one could. But somewhere along the line, she had opened her mind to the possibility that if you could love a child no matter how he came to you, then you could also love a mother, no matter how she came to you.
“I need this for my golf lesson.” Her father gestured across the crowded room to where Bill Braverman and his pretty date were talking with Connie and Chuck. Her father called to him, “Bill, come here. I need your expertise.”
“Coming.” Bill strode over in his out-of-place linen jacket, pants, and tassel loafers, making his way through the kids and ruffling Will’s hair.
“Look how fast I go, Bill!” Will called after him.