Chapter 14: Ask Your Father

I told Garrett in the NICU waiting room, because it was the one place he behaved.

It was Tuesday evening, and the room was empty except for a muted television.

He sat across from me with his elbows on his knees.

He had shaved in a gas station restroom, and he'd missed a patch under his chin.

"Delaney is at my house," I said. "She slept there Sunday and Monday. She is not coming back to your mother."

"Piper, I can't make her choose."

"Listen to me first."

He listened.

I told it the way she had told it, in the same order, with the same numbers.

I left nothing out, and I kept my eyes on his hands the whole time.

I said Dennis's name once, and I watched it land.

Garrett sat back slowly.

"No," he said.

"She heard him say it at Easter."

"No. My dad has never had a drink in front of me in my whole life."

"He stopped that spring."

"He stopped because of his heart."

"He doesn't have a heart condition."

"He had a scare."

"Did he?"

Garrett stared at me.

"You've been talking to the trooper," he said. "He's put this in your head."

"The trooper has been asking for a state file for two days, and he hasn't said a word about your father."

"Delaney is unwell. Mom says she gets confused. She's been confused for years."

"Your mother says a lot of things."

He stood up and walked to the window.

The television threw blue light across his shoulders.

"My father doesn't hurt people," he said. "He takes the deacons out for pancakes."

I waited.

I had learned that from the NICU nurses. You say the true thing once, and then you let the room do the rest.