Chapter 2 - We Leave Before Dark
Garrett did not answer.
That was answer enough for the moment.
Not proof.
Not yet.
But fear is difficult to fake when a dead woman’s handwriting appears unexpectedly.
Eudora recovered first.
“Bramwell, put that away.”
I laughed once.
“Why?”
“Not in front of the children.”
That part was correct.
Owen had begun crying silently.
Sorrel stood against my leg.
Two boys watching adults turn biology into a weapon.
I crouched.
“Sorrel.”
He looked at me.
“We’re leaving.”
“Camping?”
“Yeah.”
“Because me?”
“No.”
Important.
“Because adults made bad choices.”
He nodded.
Then:
“My tent broken.”
“I know.”
“Can fix?”
“Not today.”
He looked devastated.
More by tent than secret.
Five.
Good.
I gathered his belongings.
Not my brother’s soaked clothing.
Garrett could manage his own consequences.
Eudora followed.
“You’re overreacting.”
I stopped.
“You collapsed a five-year-old’s tent.”
“He was not inside.”
“That is your defense?”
“I was making a point.”
“To him.”
“To you.”
“There is no difference when you use my child.”
Garrett finally spoke.
“Bram, don’t do this here.”
I looked at him.
“Then answer one question.”
His jaw tightened.
“Did Rowan tell you who Sorrel’s biological father is?”
Silence.
“Garrett.”
“Yes.”
The campsite went completely still.
I felt something cold slide through my chest.
“Who?”
He looked toward Owen.
I followed his eyes.
No.
Not here.
I said:
“Fine.”
Then:
“You do not speak to Sorrel until I understand what you have hidden.”
Garrett nodded.
Eudora said:
“You cannot punish everyone because Rowan kept secrets.”
I turned.
“You knew too.”
Her face changed.
There.
“Mom.”
She looked away.
I almost demanded the entire truth.
Then Sorrel tugged my sleeve.
“Dad, I hungry.”
Reality.
I packed.
One of my cousins helped without questions.
Aunt Marjorie kept other relatives away.
Dana, Garrett’s wife, had gone into town with two of their daughters? We need source only cousin maybe Garrett and Dana have Owen only. Better Dana had gone into town with a cousin. She returned as I was loading car.
“What happened?”
Garrett said:
“Later.”
She looked at the mud-covered duffel.
Collapsed tent.
My face.
“What did you do?”
Not clear who she meant.
I said:
“Ask your husband.”
Then regretted the cruelty.
Dana had no idea.
At least I did not know if she did.
I loaded Sorrel.
Before we left, I photographed the broken tent.
Why?
Not police evidence.
Because my family had a habit of rewriting events once everyone calmed down.
No.
I wanted a record.
I also photographed Garrett’s duffel in the puddle.
My own bad choice.
If I documented theirs, I would document mine.
Then we drove.
Sorrel fell asleep twenty minutes later holding Mr. Teeth.
I pulled into a roadside diner because I was shaking too badly to drive safely.
Ordered coffee.
Did not drink.
The note sat on the table.
I unfolded it fully.
Three lines.
Bram—
Garrett knows who his father is. Your mother knows too. I should have told you sooner.
R.
Nothing else.
No name.
No explanation.
No accusation that Garrett was the father.
Only that he knew.
I stared through the diner window at my sleeping son.
Then called our family lawyer.
Not because I wanted custody.
I already had my son.
Because suddenly I needed to understand what one biological fact could and could not change.
May you like
And because I was terrified someone else had known Sorrel’s story longer than I had.
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