FIFTEEN
WORDS LEFT ME AS I SANK INTO A SOFT GREEN CHAIR AT THE base of the platform, looking up at the smiling man.
He said, “I’m glad to see you.”
Nothing. Even if I could speak, what would I say?
“I realize this must be a bit of a surprise.” He rubbed his chin, looking a little puzzled. Maybe he thought I’d gone mute or something.
I cleared my throat and sat up, trying to pull myself together. Although I wanted to, I couldn’t come right out and ask—
“You’re wondering if I’m really your father.”
I nodded.
Solomon smiled. “Whether you want me to be or not, I am.” He opened a drawer and pulled out a stack of pictures. He held one up. An eight-by-ten of me in sixth grade. He flashed a few others, all my school pictures. “Your mother sent them.”
“But how…” I didn’t even know what to ask.
“Your mother worked here, for me. And as sometimes happens when people work closely, they fall in love. Then she disappeared. Fortunately we were able to find her and bring her back.”
I asked, “Why?”
“Why did she leave? She was going to have a baby, you, and didn’t want anyone to know.”
My voice came back. “Because she didn’t want me to be part of the project.”
He nodded. “She thought that I would force her to hand you over.”
“Did you?”
His brow wrinkled. “Of course not. Do you think you’d be living as you are if I had?”
I shook my head.
“I loved your mother and respected her wishes. My only request was that she stay in Melby Falls.”
Which made me wonder something. “Request? Or demand?”
“I’m no monster.” Solomon drew in a deep breath and sighed. “I arranged for her job at Haven of Peace. I arranged for a monthly stipend.”
The fund Mom kept talking about. She wasn’t lying after all. “But you stopped paying that. I saw the notice.”
He frowned, then jotted something on a piece of paper. “That’s odd. I’ll mention it to Eve and get it taken care of.” He continued explaining about my mom. “She would still be part of the project, yet she’d have you to herself, to raise as she wished. Besides, I knew I couldn’t be a proper father to you, eating breakfast, leaving for work, coming home to play catch in the backyard.”
God, the times I’d wondered why I didn’t have a dad to do those very things. How many times had I asked my mom why I didn’t have a dad like everyone else? I wanted to know. “Why? Why couldn’t you?”
He held out one hand, palm up. “Because I was already committed here. My work was here.”
“The autotrophs.”
He nodded. “I couldn’t let a family distract me from such crucial work. So the next best thing was to know you were close.” He gestured to a shelf on the wall, filled with DVD cases. “Choose one.” He pointed. “There’s a computer over there.”