Run Away(68)

No change.

So block.

Right, pretend she was asleep. He kept staring at her face, the cheekbones so sharp the surgeons down the hall could use them as scalpels, the lips he’d gently kissed before he sat down, hoping to get some kind of reaction out of them because even when Ingrid was deep in sleep, her lips would react instinctively, in some small way at the very least, to his kiss.

But not now.

He flashed back to the last time he’d watched her as she slept—on their honeymoon in Antigua, days after they’d officially tied the knot. Simon had woken up before sunrise, Ingrid sprawled next to him on her back, like right now, like always. Her eyes were closed, of course, her breathing even, and so Simon just stared, marveling at the fact that this was how he’d wake up every day from now—next to this wondrous woman who was now his life partner.

He had watched her like this for only ten, maybe fifteen seconds, when without opening her eyes or moving at all, Ingrid said, “Cut that out, it’s creepy.”

He smiled at the memory, sitting now at her bedside with her still yet warm hand in his. Yes, warm. Alive. Blood flowing through. Ingrid didn’t feel shrunken or sick or dying. She was just asleep and soon she’d wake up.

And the first thing she’d do is ask about Paige.

He had some questions about that too.

Simon had called Elena after leaving Sadie Lowenstein’s and filled her in on Paige’s interest in genetics and ancestry. Elena usually played it close to the vest, but this meant something to her. She’d peppered him with follow-up questions, only some of which he could answer.

When Elena ran out of questions, she asked for Eileen Vaughan’s phone number. Simon gave it to her.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Maybe nothing. But not long before he was killed, Damien Gorse also visited one of those DNA sites.”

“So what does that mean?”

“Let me run down a few things before we get into that. Are you going to the hospital?”

“Yes.”

Elena promised to meet him there and then she hung up.

The children seemed okay. Anya was home with Suzy Fiske, and Simon thought that was probably best for now. Sam had befriended some medical residents who were working the floor—Sam was good at that, always able to make friends quickly—and he was in their lounge right now, trying to study for his upcoming physics exam. He’d always been not only a smart kid but an industrious one. Simon, who’d been a do-enough-to-get-by student, was constantly amazed by his son’s work ethic—up early in the morning, exercising before breakfast, getting his homework done days ahead of time—and unlike most fathers, Simon sometimes worried that he should encourage his son to ease off the gas pedal a bit and smell the roses. Sam was almost too driven.

Not now, of course. Now it would hopefully be a nice distraction.

No change.

So block—though right now, he was blocking on more than Ingrid’s condition.

Simon didn’t consider himself to be an overly imaginative guy, but whatever imagination he had, it had shifted into overdrive after hearing about the DNA test, careening him down this dark, ugly road, one with barbed wire and land mines, one he’d never wanted to travel, but there seemed to be no other choice at the moment.

Eileen Vaughan’s words kept echoing: “Problems at home.”

Yvonne slipped into the room. “Hey,” she said.

“Is there any chance Paige isn’t my child?”

Boom. Just like that.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Simon turned toward her. Yvonne was pale, shaking.

“Is there any chance I’m not Paige’s biological father?”

“My God, no.”

“I just need to know the truth.”

“What the hell, Simon?”

“Could she have slept with someone else?”

“Ingrid?”

“Who else would I be talking about?”

“I don’t know. This is all such crazy talk.”

“So there’s zero chance.”

“Zero.”

He turned back toward his wife.

“Simon, what’s going on?”

“You can’t say for sure,” he said.

“Simon.”

“No one can say for sure.”

“No, of course no one can say for sure.” A hint of impatience had crept into Yvonne’s voice. “I can’t say for sure you haven’t fathered any other children either.”

“You know how much I love her.”

“I do, yes. And she loves you just as much.”

“But I don’t know the whole story, do I?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yeah, you do. There’s a part of her that’s hidden. Even from me.”

“There’s part of everybody that’s hidden.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Then I don’t get what you do mean.”

“Yeah, Yvonne, you do.”

“Where is this coming from?”

“It’s coming from my search for Paige.”

“And now you think, what, that you’re not her father?”

Simon swung his body now, faced her full. “I know everything about you, Yvonne.”