The Choices We Made novel · Chapter 9 of 24

Chapter 9: Two Envelopes

Eliza ran the last block to Schermerhorn Hall with her envelope crushed in her fist.

The housekeeper opened the door and stepped aside without a word.

Weston was standing in the middle of the study.

He had not sat down. He had not taken off his tie. His face was the color of paper.

On the desk lay one white sheet, turned face up.

She put her own sheet next to it.

Neither of them spoke.

She read his first, because she could not yet read hers.

It said father, with the nines running out to the edge of the box.

Then hers.

Alleged mother: Eliza Schermerhorn. Child: J. Schermerhorn. Probability of maternity: 99.99 percent.

Eliza put her hand on the desk and held on.

"He's mine," she said.

"He's ours," Weston said.

"I put him to bed every night for five years."

"I know."

"I hummed to him in the dark. I sat up with his fevers."

She drew a breath.

"I told him he was my whole life. I thought I was only borrowing him."

Her voice broke on the last word, and she let it.

Weston stood very still, and he did not look away from her.

"Tell me the day," she said. "The day you were told he died."

He swallowed.

"I don't remember it."

"March third."

"March third," he said.

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