“I never got that call. Instead, I got one from a nurse asking me to come to the hospital right away.
“It was the worst car journey I’ve ever driven. All the possibilities were jumping through my mind as to what had happened. So, when I finally got there, I was overwrought. The nurse ushered me into a small room, and I knew whatever she was going to tell me wasn’t going to be good news.”
My stomach squirms, as I know where this is heading. I’m finally on familiar ground.
“She did her best to tell me gently that Lenore had died in childbirth due to complications and blood loss. Ellison had to decide whether to save Lenore or his children, a decision no one should ever have to make.
“The nurse told me that Ellison had named you both right after delivery and asked her to call me with the news, as he was too bereft to do it himself. But before she got around to calling me, Ellison collapsed and was rushed into the emergency room.
“Within the hour of you and Ed arriving in the world, Ellison suffered a massive heart attack. I was shocked. He’d been the picture of health, and I always believed he died of a broken heart, but it turns out he had a congenital heart disease that had been brought on by an infection, the symptoms of which he’d ignored, as he’d been so focussed on Lenore and her failing health during the pregnancy.”
My hand feels cold as it grips my phone. Two deaths. Ed and I are now responsible for the loss of both our parents, because if my mother hadn’t died giving birth to us, my father would still be here. We killed them both. Us. Together.
I feel raw, numb, and I want nothing more than to hang up, to end this call, but I can’t. I have to see this through.
“Victor was notified of his brother’s death, which he took hard. But there were decisions to be made with regards to your future. The thought of Victor deciding your fate made me feel ill. He wasn’t a family man where children were concerned and would have had you brought up by some agency nanny. I asked if I could take you both home, but it wasn’t that simple. As your only next of kin, Victor was given the option to take you in as his own, but he said he didn’t want either of you, so you became wards of the state and were put with a foster family until I petitioned the court and was granted custody of you both. There was no battle in fighting Victor for your adoption. His already cold heart had frozen at the loss of his twin, and he blamed Lenore for Ellison’s death. You already had your mother’s eyes and Ed your father’s, and I knew that Victor would also see this, and you’d be a constant reminder of his loss. I feared he would come to hate you both.”
The line goes quiet, and I can hear my dad swallowing hard as if he’s trying to hold back tears. My own are lodged in the back of my throat, threatening to strangle me.
“Why did you never tell us any of this?” Anger threatens, the numbness gone for an instant. Why have I waited so long to learn this? Would I have ever learned the truth if it hadn’t been for Valdemar? Years and years of lies. My life a lie. My past a lie. I’m not sure how much more I can take.
“It was hard enough telling you that your mother had died giving birth to you. I always wondered what growing up with that knowledge did to you both. You were always so insular, so reliant on each other, and the thought of adding your father’s death to that was too much.
“So, I told you I was your father. That way you could grow up having one parent, at least. I wanted to give you as much of a chance at life as I could, and I thought that was the best way. What you need to understand is that I loved your father, morethan as a friend, a love he simply couldn’t return, and that was fine. I never held it against him, and it didn’t undermine our friendship. But when you love someone inthatway, you would do anything for them, and I knew he would have wanted you both to grow up being loved and cherished. And you and Ed were all I had left of him.
“I always intended to tell you later on in life, but there never seemed to be the right time or the right place, and the longer I left it, the harder it became. And then when Ed died, I truly believed that your heart couldn’t take any more.” His voice breaks, and my chest tightens.
There’s a part of me that wants to scream at him, to shout, to let the beast of betrayal out, but I don’t have the fight in me. Instead, I reply flatly, “Thank you for telling me the truth, no matter how hard it’s been.” My voice sounds robotic because I’m numb, angry, reeling, but also deflated by it all. I can’t take all this in. It’s too much to process. I’m not sure what to do with it and what bearing this has on everything that’s going on with Valdemar and my brother. I’m too consumed with the lie I’ve been living.
“I’m just sorry I never told you sooner and that you had to call and ask. I wish I was there with you. You’re not alone, are you?”
My gaze goes to Valdemar. “No, I’m not alone.”
I wonder what my dad—William—would say if I told him that the person standing in my kitchen and being my emotional support is the man who shot my brother.
“I’m here if you need me. I will always be here. I know I’ve not been the best of parents; grief, as you know, does strange things to you, and I wasn’t ready to have children. I’d gone from being a single man to losing the only man I ever loved and gaining a family in the blink of an eye. But, at his funeral, I made a promise to Ellison that I would always be here for you, andI feel like I failed Ed. I wasn’t there for him like I should have been, and I often wonder if what happened was my fault.”
Valdemar swallows hard.
“No. Don’t ever think that. His death is not on your hands.” I’m shocked at how quick I jump to his defence after what he’s just told me, but deep down, I understand why he did what he did. And I’m glad he took us in and didn’t leave us in foster care, but I just wish he’d told us all this sooner.
“I think any parent always feels responsible for the death of their child,” he says.
“It wasn’t your fault. Promise me you’ll stop blaming yourself,” I tell him.
“I’ll try, and that will have to be good enough.”
“Okay, Dad.” My voice is hoarse, my mouth dry.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Yes,” I lie. And as desperate as I was ten minutes ago to speak to him, I want nothing more than to end this call because I need to be alone. I can’t process this right now. I need quiet, calm, a darkened room, and time. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, sweetheart. And just so you know, you’ll always be mine, my sweet little girl. Even if we don’t share the same blood, we share the same love in our hearts, and I love you, my little Evangeline.”
“I love you, too, Dad.” My voice trembles.
He ends the call, and my arm drops heavily to my side, the phone a dead weight in my grasp.
