His Cousin Was His Real Wife, So I Took My Father's Name Back novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: The Swab

Simon shows Clara a photo of a seven-year-old with a notched ear and a test she watches herself. Joan texts her to bring her good ring to the bank in the morning.

I did not go anywhere with Simon Hallett until I had seen his face in the light.

"There's a diner across the street," I said. "We'll sit by the window, and I'll keep my bag on my lap."

"That's fine," he said. "You can take a photo of my license, too, if you want."

I did want. I took it.

The waitress brought two coffees and left the pot.

Simon did not touch his.

He pulled a photograph from inside his coat, and the edges had gone soft from being carried.

"This is Caroline," he said. "She was seven."

A little girl stood in a garden in a yellow raincoat, squinting at the camera.

She had my chin.

She had a pale notch cut out of her left earlobe.

My hand went to my own ear before I could stop it.

"A dog bit me," I said. "When I was small. My mother told me."

"Caroline caught it on the garden gate when she was four," Simon said. "She cried for a minute and then asked for a sticker."

"Lots of people have scars on their ears."

"Yes," he said. "That's why we didn't come to you with a photograph. We came with a test."

I waited.

"Two years ago, after your mother's funeral, you spat in a tube for one of those family-tree sites."

I had forgotten that.

I had wanted to know what ran in my family, since the Mackeys had never known and I had no one left to ask.

"Six weeks ago," Simon said, "a cousin of mine uploaded my uncle's sample. Your tube came up as his daughter."

"Six weeks," I said.

"The lawyers wanted a second lab before anyone spoke to you. I didn't agree with that."

I put the number away where I could find it later.

"You've known where I live for six weeks," I said.

"I knew where you worked and where you lived," he said. "I didn't come to your door because I didn't know who else was in the house."

That was a careful answer, and I did not yet know what to do with it.

"What happened to her?" I asked. "To Caroline."

Simon looked at the picture instead of me.

"She was in the back garden, and I was supposed to be watching her. I was twelve."

"And?"

"She was there. Then she wasn't. Her raincoat was on the lawn, and the gate was open."

He said it flat, in words he had plainly said to himself many times.

"I don't remember being adopted," I said. "I remember a bus station, a lady's hand, and then the Mackeys' kitchen."

"We think that was her."

"Her."

"The woman who took you. She was never found."

I held the coffee in both hands. It was too hot, and I let it hurt.

"Why would a stranger take a rich man's daughter and hand her to a couple who never had money?"

"I don't know yet," Simon said. "I'd like to find out. So would my uncle."

"Where is he?"

"At home, on oxygen. His heart is failing. He asked me to tell you he will wait for any answer you want to give, and he won't ask for one today."

I looked at the photograph again.

Then I looked at the man who had waited for me in the rain.

"I'm not saying yes to anything," I said. "I want a test I watch with my own eyes."

"I thought you would."

He took a small kit out of his other pocket, the kind with a sealed swab and a labeled tube.

I broke the seal myself.

I rubbed the inside of my cheek for the full count, and I wrote my name and the date on the label.

Simon watched me do it and did not offer to help.

"Your lab," I said. "Not a lab you pay."

"My uncle's lawyer chose the lab. It turns results in a day. I'll give you the name, and you can call them."

"Good."

I slid the tube into the envelope and kept the envelope.

"I'm taking this to the post office myself," I said.

"All right."

My phone buzzed against the table, and I turned it over.

Kyle.

Did you drop off the folder? Mom wants everything signed by tomorrow. Love you.

I looked at it for a long moment.

Then another message landed under it, from Joan.

Bring the blue dress and your good ring tomorrow, darling. Bank at nine. We'll make it a family morning.

Simon was reading it upside down.

"Your husband's family sends a lot of messages about paper," he said.

"They have a lot of paper," I said, and typed back to Joan: Of course.

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