Jem started pushing himself up from the chair.“We believe you,” Jem said.“But Mom, something weird is going on, and if you can tell us anything, you need to do it right now.”
At another time, in another place, it might have sounded insistent—maybe even urgent.Right then, though, Jem spoke the words as though he were trying not to bother her.
Brigitte shook her head, fighting tears again.But when Jem blew out a breath and glanced away, those same sharp eyes cut toward Tean again.
Those same sharp eyes.
A muddled blue that, in the right light, was almost gray.
Tean had seen those eyes before.Jem had those eyes.Maeve had those eyes.Milo had those eyes.
The alarm at the back of his head grew louder.
He had seen those eyes before.
The words slipped out of him: “He’s your son.”
Jem raised his eyebrows.“What?”
Stop, Tean told himself.Think.
But Jem was already saying to Brigitte, “I know this was a hard conversation.I’m sorry we had to do this.”And just like that, it was slipping away.Jem was saying, “We’re going to keep looking for Maeve and Milo—”
She was going to get away with it.After everything she’d done to Jem—after all the ways she’d ruined his life, after abandoning him, after stealing from him, after destroying his chance at a happy future—she was going to get away with it.
The room seemed to get smaller.Tean was moving too, moving farther and farther back inside his head until he was at the end of a long room.His voice, when he spoke, sounded like it was already an echo.
“He’s your son.”
Jem said, “Give it a break.”
“Of course he’s my son,” Brigitte said.“And I love him.But it doesn’t change the fact that I can’t help you.I didn’t have anything to do with stealing that money, and I don’t know what else I’m supposed to tell you.”
“Stephen,” Tean said.“Stephen’s your son.”
The truth froze her face—only for a moment, but long enough to reveal the helplessness, the fear, the desperation.And then she was shaking her head, opening her mouth, letting out a little laugh.
“He is,” Tean said.“I should have seen it right away.The same eyes.He’s blond, too, although a bit darker.The way he moves.The way he talks.The way he lies.You were so insistent that you weren’t sleeping with him.Of course you weren’t sleeping with him; he’s your son.”
Brigitte took a step back.She folded one arm across her stomach.“That’s ridiculous.You’re making this up.”
“I didn’t understand why you would help him steal money from Gerald unless you were sleeping together.There had to be some sort of reason you’d trust him—or at least some sort of reason you’d work with him.And you were spending so much time together, it was natural to assume the relationship was sexual.”
“He’s not my son.I don’t even know him.Jeremiah, he’s making it up.”
“But that’s the only explanation.That’s why Gerald would hire him, when Stephen couldn’t pass a simple background check.It took Sawyer a day to figure out that Stephen was lying.A day to learn that Stephen Anderson didn’t exist except on a few pieces of paper.If Sawyer could figure it out, Gerald could too.But he didn’t bother to check Stephen’s credentials, did he?He didn’t need to.This was your son.And if one of your sons needed help, well, Gerald would be happy to provide—but they had to work for the money.Did Gerald know that Stephen was telling everyone that Gerald had been his mission president?Did he know about the story Stephen concocted about how Gerald cured him?”Only silence.“How long did it take you and Stephen to come up with the plan?Was it after he started working with you?Or had you planned the whole thing from the beginning, and that’s why you decided to bring Stephen into this?”
“This is outrageous.”But she took another step back, and now she hugged herself with both arms.“I can’t believe I’m hearing this.Jeremiah, he’s out of his mind.”
“Is he right?”Jem asked.
“I don’t know where he came up with this.”
“Is he right?Is Stephen your son?”
“Jeremiah—”
“Don’t call me that!”In the wake of the shout, the only sound was Jem’s ragged breathing.“Tell me.”
