PART 2: THE TRUTH ABOUT MY FATHER
The following morning, Tessa drove me to meet Cole at a busy diner. He had chosen a booth near the entrance so I would have plenty of room for my wheelchair. When I came inside, he immediately stood.
“I’m not calling you Dad.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“But you’ve thought about it.”
“I’ve thought about many things since the flea market.”
He pushed a photograph across the table. My mother was pregnant in the picture, smiling as she held a tiny knitted cap. Beneath the photograph was a page containing three possible names for a baby. My name had been circled.
“You knew my name?”
“I knew the name Hannah wanted.”
“But you never came back for me.”
Cole’s expression tightened.
“Your grandfather told me that you and Hannah were both dead.”
“And you simply believed him?”
“I returned months later. Benjamin had moved away. Someone showed me Hannah’s grave and told me there had been no separate funeral for the baby.”
“So you stopped searching?”
“For far too long.”
“Why?”
“Because grief made me accept an answer I should have questioned.”
He did not make excuses.
“I failed you, Maisie.”
His honesty hurt more than a lie would have.
“How did you finally find us?”
“Hannah gave that letter to a friend. Benjamin later convinced the friend that the baby had died. Years afterward, she tracked me down and gave me the letter.”
“Then why didn’t you find me sooner?”
“I had no name beyond the one Hannah had chosen, no address and no proof that you had survived. Then I saw a photograph on the flea market’s public page. You were sitting behind the quilt table.”
He swallowed.
“I recognized Hannah’s face in yours.”
I folded my hands in my lap.
“I want a DNA test.”
“Anything you need.”
“I’m sorry, but Grandpa has been my only family my entire life.”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
“The test can tell me who you are biologically. It cannot decide what role you get to have in my life.”
Cole nodded slowly.
“That’s fair.”
Several weeks later, the test confirmed that Cole was my biological father. The result did not instantly make him my parent. Grandpa remained my legal guardian, and Cole promised not to begin a custody battle.
“I already lost fifteen years. I won’t steal the next three by dragging you through court.”
I allowed him to attend one of my therapy sessions. When I reached for the parallel bars, he instinctively stepped forward.
“Don’t.”
He stopped immediately. Grandpa remained several feet behind me. He already understood the rule. I managed to stand for seven seconds. Cole did not cheer, applaud or call me brave.
“You worked hard for that.”
I looked at him.
“Correct answer.”
The following Saturday, I insisted that Grandpa return to the flea market.
“You lied to everyone there. That’s where you need to correct the story.”
His hands shook as he stood before the surrounding vendors.
“Cole did not abandon Hannah. I hid his letters. After Hannah died, I told him that her baby had died too.”
A woman from the booth beside ours stared at him.
“You told everyone he disappeared after learning Hannah was pregnant.”
“I lied.”
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