I nodded, my heart twisting. I wouldn’t tell him the toddler’s skin had been chapped and her body was filthy. I couldn’t do that to Mr. Bridger and worsen the memory his son already had of him. “When I went up to the house looking for him,” I said, fudging the facts a bit, “it was messy—you know how he kept house, I’m sure—but her clothing was clean and folded and her room was tidy.”
“That so?” He looked away and pressed a knuckle to his eye. He wouldn’t look back at me. Because I was such an accomplished liar and owed him more than I could ever repay, I added, “She looked good. Well cared for.”
He nodded. He blinked and pressed the back of his hand to his eye. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear it. I always believed Sheryl took our daughter with her when she left. No one knew Trisha wasn’t with her. Not me, that’s for sure. I was doing time when they told me my father had died and when Sheryl’s car was found.”
“Prison,” I said again. “Not overseas.”
“Not overseas. ‘A polite fiction’ is what they call it, right? No, I was never in the service. I was in the States and incarcerated. I had a drinking problem. Made poor decisions. DUI. Breaking and entering. I’d rather not go into it further. I’d hoped no one here would ever need to know.”
“No one does, and they won’t hear it from me.”
“I never learned to be a grateful or a peaceful man, but when I understood my daughter hadn’t died in the flooding . . . I thanked God, probably for the first time in decades.”
“I kept her from you . . . not deliberately, but by keeping her as my own.”
He shook his head. “For the first time in years, I was even grateful to Sheryl. I’m sure she ditched Trisha because having a child along was inconvenient for her lifestyle. Too much partying and drugs. Yet if Sheryl hadn’t left her behind, or if the flash food hadn’t killed her, then our daughter would’ve grown up living as her mother did. By the time I was released, our daughter would have been . . . well, I don’t know, but I can’t be sure I wouldn’t have made it worse. It’s taken me several years to find my way back to a decent life.
“If you had notified the authorities, Trisha . . . Ellen, I mean—” He shook his head with a wry grin. “She surely would’ve gone into foster care. I thought my daughter had died. That was bad, yes. But instead, she was loved and cared for. That was good, for her and for me.”
“Do you think she’ll ever see it that way?”
“Honestly, I don’t know.”
Birds flew overhead, and we watched them pass. Have patience, I told myself. There is hope in patience. In the silence, I heard the distant sound of the creek and of the leaves in the nearby trees rustling.
“I have another question,” he said.
I braced myself.
“If I’d come back sooner, say several years ago, would you have told me then?”
In a quiet voice, I said, “Yes. If you had returned, and if I wasn’t worried about her safety or well-being with you, I would’ve told you.”
“What if I’d been messed up and not managing? You wouldn’t have come forward?”
Images flashed in my mind of what that would’ve meant. Handing over Ellen to a stranger with a drinking problem or worse? I held my breath and shook my head.
He nodded. “I believe you. It confirms what I thought about your reasons.”
“Liam, you asked why I told her now. I want her to go to college. I still want that. I don’t want her to make decisions based on fear, or hurt because her friends said thoughtless things. Will you encourage her?”
“Yes, but I won’t force her, Hannah. I don’t know if I’m ready to lose her again this soon.”
“No, please, Liam. Encourage her to go. She’ll return. Don’t make her like me. Or like you. We don’t want her making decisions that will haunt her and hold her back for the rest of her life.” I stood gingerly and touched his arm. “Don’t you see how wrong it would be?”
He put his shoulders back, drawing away. “I see both sides, but I’ve only just found my daughter.” His gaze flicked away. “I’ve got work to do.”
We weren’t done discussing this, but before I could tell him, I realized Roger had arrived. His car was stopped partway down the drive, and I knew he’d seen us. I turned without another word and went through the house, out the back, and into the cabin.
I nearly barricaded the door but didn’t. I forced myself to stand and wait.
I’d kept my secret for so long, too long. By the time I did tell, I hurt people. I’d confessed the truth to halt further damage to Ellen’s life. And now? What purpose had any of it served? Ellen had been Trisha Bridger in the Bridger house; now she was Ellen, perhaps still a Cooper, too, and I’d given her all I could, including the truth. And now she was back there again, at the Bridger house, perhaps to stay.
Perhaps never to leave.
Could I step away from it? Let it go? I’d done what I could. This, in a very real way, was no longer any of my business.
Yet, would I have a choice? Someone somehow would pull me back in. I had no fight left in me, and I didn’t want to do any more damage.
When the thick door began to move, Roger called out, “Hannah? Can I come in?”
I gulped and couldn’t speak. He pushed the door the rest of the way open.
Roger stared, his eyes adjusting to the dim interior light. “Hannah? I went to the house, I went to the shop, I have looked all over town. Why are you hiding in the cabin?”
“Because I don’t want to see anyone,” I whispered.
Roger eased the door closed. He turned back to me. “Like Liam?”
“I didn’t know he was here. When I did, I wanted to find out how Ellen was.”
“How do you think Ellen is?” He sounded angry.
“Have you spoken to her? How is she?”
“I did, but only briefly, then I went looking for you. Where have you been?”
“Here, and at Rose Lane, and at the shop.”
He looked around, and his tone changed. “Are you living out here?”
I moved around to the far side of the table. If he hadn’t noticed the clay and the tools before, he did now.
“Rose Lane is where I live with my daughter. I don’t want to spend time there right now.”
“Are you hiding?”
“I want to be away from . . . People talk. Right now, until I know how things will . . . resolve, I don’t want to be an object of . . . however people will view what I’ve done. They don’t know my family or me or why. I can’t stop people from talking, but I won’t add to it or give them the opportunity to butt into my life. I don’t care what they think.”
“If that were true, then you wouldn’t be hiding and moving around town under cover of dark.” Roger leaned forward, his hands on the table. His words slammed into me. “Did you do the right thing fifteen years ago? No. But let me ask you this: Do you regret it? Would you do it differently if you could go back?”
Would I? I already knew the answer in my heart. “I won’t lie. No, I don’t regret it. I couldn’t do it differently. I am sorry people were hurt, though.”
“But you’d hurt them all over again if time rewound?”
I nodded.
“Then step out there. Don’t hide as if you believe you did something wrong.”
“But I did. I did do something wrong.”
“Make up your mind, Hannah. Stop hiding.”