Chapter 21: The Judge in Santa Barbara

My father stood in the hall in his blue blazer, with no tie and a day of grey on his jaw.

He looked ten years older than he had at his party.

"Camille," he said. "I heard. I came as soon as I heard."

"You came as soon as they took her."

"I came to see my granddaughter."

Declan stepped between us, and my father looked up at him and then away.

"Let him say it," I told Declan.

He moved a half step back.

"Dad. You signed as the witness. You paid for the letters."

"I was..."

"You watched me carry your lie for twenty years, and you told the whole country I was unstable."

"I was protecting..."

"You were protecting her. You've always protected her."

I shifted June higher against my shoulder.

"I stood in the hall for twenty years and watched you do it. You don't get to see my daughter today."

His mouth worked.

"When?"

"I don't know."

"Camille, I'm your father."

"Then be one," I said. "Start with the state investigators. They're in the lobby, and they'd like to hear from you."

He looked at the baby.

Her fist was curled against my collar, and her eyes were shut.

"She looks like your grandmother," he said, in a voice I did not know.

"Go downstairs, Dad."

He went.

He walked down the long hall with his back stiff.

He took the stairs instead of the elevator, one hand on the rail.

I watched him go and felt nothing I could name.

Seven weeks later I stood up in a courtroom in Santa Barbara, in the same green dress, and held June's weight against my hip.

She was nearly the size she should have been, plump and furious about it.

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