Chapter 4 - THE MAN WHO CALLED HIMSELF HER FATHER
We went back to the hospital.
Together.
I hated that part of me was relieved to have something to do besides decide whether my marriage was broken.
Crisis is easier than ambiguity.
Tyler Shaw was standing near the nurses’ station when we arrived.
He looked nothing like a monster.
That matters too.
People expect dangerous men to announce themselves.
Tyler wore jeans.
Work boots.
A navy jacket.
He had brown hair and tired eyes.
He looked like a man who had just learned the mother of his child was dead.
He was crying.
For half a second, I doubted everything.
Then he saw James.
His face changed.
“You.”
James stopped.
A hospital security officer stepped between them.
Tyler pointed.
“You kept her from me.”
James’s jaw tightened.
“She was hiding from you.”
“That’s what she told you.”
“She had bruises.”
Tyler looked around.
“Not here.”
A social worker named Denise Harper emerged from the nurses’ station.
“Everyone needs to stay calm.”
Tyler looked at her.
“I am her father.”
“We understand your claim.”
“Claim?”
His voice rose.
“My girlfriend just died giving birth to my daughter.”
Denise remained steady.
“You are not listed on the birth certificate.”
“Because Claire was angry.”
“You will have an opportunity to establish paternity.”
“I don’t need an opportunity. She’s mine.”
Something about those words hit me wrong.
Not my daughter.
Mine.
I looked toward the glass nursery.
The baby was sleeping.
Mine.
As though she were an object being returned.
Denise explained that the baby would remain in hospital care until doctors were satisfied she could be discharged.
In the meantime, child welfare would conduct an emergency assessment.
Claire had left written instructions naming James and me as preferred guardians.
Those wishes mattered.
But Tyler’s biological rights mattered too if paternity was confirmed.
“How long?” I asked.
“For DNA?”
“Yes.”
“Potentially a few days.”
Tyler looked at me for the first time.
“You’re Anna?”
I stiffened.
“How do you know my name?”
“Claire talked about you.”
He laughed bitterly.
“Said you were perfect.”
“I’m not.”
“No kidding.”
James moved slightly in front of me.
I hated that I appreciated it.
Tyler noticed.
“Did he tell you?”
My stomach dropped.
“Tell me what?”
James went still.
Tyler smiled.
There are smiles that are not happiness.
This was one.
“That he’s been meeting Claire behind your back?”
I looked at James.
“I know.”
Tyler’s smile faded slightly.
“Everything?”
James said, “Stop.”
That was exactly the wrong thing.
I turned.
“What does everything mean?”
“Anna.”
“What does it mean?”
Tyler shoved his hands into his pockets.
“Ask him how much money he gave her.”
“I know about the apartment.”
Tyler laughed.
“Apartment?”
My chest tightened.
James closed his eyes.
I stared at him.
“How much?”
“Anna, not here.”
“HOW MUCH?”
The nurses’ station went quiet.
James lowered his voice.
“Forty-two thousand dollars.”
I actually stepped backward.
“What?”
“Over six months.”
“For what?”
“Rent. Medical bills. A lawyer. A car deposit.”
“You gave your sister forty-two thousand dollars without telling me?”
“I was trying to get her away from him.”
Tyler snapped:
“She stole from me.”
James turned.
“You controlled her bank account.”
“I paid the bills.”
“You controlled her.”
“She was irresponsible.”
“You broke her phone.”
“She threw it.”
James’s face changed.
That detail.
He hadn’t told me.
Denise stepped closer.
“That’s enough.”
Tyler pointed toward the nursery.
“I’m not letting these people steal my child.”
Denise replied calmly.
“No one is taking the baby tonight.”
I looked at her.
“Then where does she go?”
“For tonight? She stays here.”
“And after?”
“That depends.”
Tyler said immediately:
“With me.”
James said:
“No.”
Denise looked at both men.
“With whoever the court determines is appropriate.”
The next two days moved strangely.
Funeral arrangements.
DNA paperwork.
Lawyers.
Boys asking questions.
The baby remaining in the hospital because she was slightly premature and having trouble maintaining her weight.
I visited once without James.
I told myself I was going because someone should.
Denise had said Tyler was permitted supervised visits pending paternity confirmation.
James was permitted too as next of kin.
I was not technically anything.
Still, Claire had named me.
The nurse let me sit beside the bassinet.
I did not pick her up at first.
I watched.
She made tiny movements in her sleep.
Lips.
Fingers.
A little crease between her eyebrows.
“She likes being held upright,” the nurse said.
I looked at her.
“I’m okay.”
“You don’t have to hold her.”
“I know.”
Ten minutes later, she started crying.
The nurse was helping another baby.
I stood automatically.
I put one hand under her head.
One under her body.
I had done this thousands of times.
But it had been four years since Eli was this small.
The weight of her shocked me.
Five pounds, fourteen ounces.
Nothing.
Everything.
She stopped crying against my chest.
I stared at her.
“Don’t.”
She did not listen.
She opened her eyes.
I started crying.
Quietly.
“I’m not your mother.”
The words came out before I could stop them.
The nurse pretended not to hear.
I held her for twenty-two minutes.
Then I put her down before I could confuse tenderness with a decision.
When I got home, James was in the garage.
The newborn box was open.
I stopped.
“What are you doing?”
He looked guilty.
“Looking for the car-seat insert.”
My chest tightened.
“You’re planning.”
“No.”
“You are always planning.”
“She may need somewhere to go.”
“So you’ve already decided it’s here?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You don’t have to.”
James stood.
“I can’t leave her with Tyler.”
“You may not have that choice.”
“I’ll fight.”
“Of course you will.”
He stared at me.
“What does that mean?”
“It means you always know what the mission is.”
I pointed toward the house.
“Protect Claire. Save the baby. Fight Tyler.”
My voice broke.
“What about me?”
His face changed.
“I am trying to protect you too.”
“Stop saying that.”
“I didn’t tell you because pregnancy nearly killed you.”
“This is not pregnancy.”
“A daughter is still the thing we buried.”
I stared at him.
“Yes.”
He looked toward the box.
“I knew if I told you Claire was pregnant, every month you would wonder.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know you.”
“No.”
The word came sharper than I expected.
“You know the version of me you manage.”
James looked like I slapped him.
Good.
Maybe he needed to.
“You decided what I could handle.”
Silence.
“You decided what I could know.”
Silence.
“You decided what I would agree to.”
I wiped my face.
“And now you’re deciding I’ll recover because your reasons were good.”
“I don’t think that.”
“Then what do you think?”
James’s eyes filled.
“I think I was so scared of losing Claire that I started controlling the situation.”
I stared.
“And somewhere in there, I became the kind of husband who thought loving you gave me permission to choose for you.”
That was the first thing he had said that sounded completely true.
Before I could answer, his phone rang.
He checked it.
DNA lab.
My heart started pounding.
James answered.
Listened.
Then closed his eyes.
I knew.
“Tyler?”
James nodded.
“Ninety-nine point nine percent.”
The baby had a father.
A legal one.
A biological one.
May you like
A living one.
And unless we could prove Claire had been right to fear him, the daughter-shaped hope none of us wanted to admit existed might disappear before it ever had a name.
