He Missed Our Daughter's Birthday novel · Chapter 9 of 24

Chapter 9: Funeral Week

We sat at the end of the dock, a good two feet apart.

Dennis stayed on the porch, where I could see him.

The water was flat and grey, and a gull stood on the far post.

"Tell me all of it," I said. "In order. If you stop, I walk back up the hill."

Randall gripped the edge of the boards.

"Jasper is my son," he said. "I've known since before he was born."

I had known it since the Polaroid.

It still hurt to hear him say it.

"Go on."

"It was the week of your mother's funeral," he said. "Birdie was three months old, and you weren't talking to anyone. You weren't talking to me."

"I was grieving."

"I know. I went to the trucking dinner in Charlotte because someone had to. Regina was seated at my table. I hadn't seen her in years."

"And?"

"We had drinks. I told her my wife wouldn't look at me. She was kind." He swallowed. "I slept with her. One night. I woke up and hated myself, and I drove home and never said a word."

The gull took off and landed again.

"I never saw her again," he said. "Until she called me, six months later."

"To say she was pregnant."

"Yes."

"And you believed her."

"She said she'd raise him alone. She didn't ask for anything. I said no, he's mine, I'll pay. I thought I was doing the decent thing."

"Decent."

"I was in the delivery room, Stephanie. She had no one. I took the test after he was born, and it was me."

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