I stared.
“No.”
Claire continued.
“That child’s mother was named Laura.”
My knees almost gave out.
My mother’s name was Laura.
Eleanor whispered, “Christopher.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
Claire asked, “When were you born?”
I told her.
She covered her mouth.
“That’s the same year.”
I backed away from the table.
“No. This is ridiculous.”
But then I remembered something.
My mother crying when I asked about my father.
The birthday cards with no return address that arrived until I was seven.
The photograph I once found of her standing beside a dark-haired young man near a lake.
She had torn it in half when she saw me holding it.
“Daniel,” Eleanor said. “Find out.”
He nodded.
Hours later, the answer came.
My biological father had been Thomas Vale.
Older half-brother of Marcus Vale.
Thomas had d/i/e/d in an automobile accident when I was eight.
