Chapter 9 - THE NAME FROM HIS PAST
I placed the photograph on the table between us.
Robert did not pretend not to recognize it.
“Marianne and I were married,” he said.
I felt as though a small stone had dropped through my chest.
“Married?”
“Years before I met you. We divorced fourteen years ago.”
“You never told me.”
“No,” he admitted.
I searched his face for a reason.
He did not offer a convenient one.
“I should have.”
I was angry not because he'd loved another woman but because his silence had made me feel unprepared in a story that was suddenly consuming my life.
Robert listened while I said so.
Then he told me about their marriage.
They had built a successful company together in some ways, but they had disagreed about almost everything that mattered.
Marianne believed loyalty could be purchased.
Robert believed institutions failed when money became an excuse for everything.
Their divorce had involved a bitter settlement and her resignation from the board.
“Did she do something illegal?” I asked.
“Nothing that was proved,” he said.
That distinction mattered.
I was learning to separate suspicion from evidence.
“Why would she be connected to Wade?”
“I don't know.”
“Could she be targeting you through my son?”
“I don't know that either.”
He looked older than I'd ever seen him.
“Edna, I wanted our marriage to begin without all the names and old battles attached to mine.”
“But they were still yours,” I replied.
He nodded.
I went to Ruth's house that night.
Robert did not ask me to stay.
He only said he loved me and understood why I needed room to think.
At Ruth's kitchen table, I opened a message from Wade.
It was the first time in days he had asked a question without a demand.
MOM, DID ROBERT REALLY OWN THE COMPANY BEFORE HE MET YOU?
I wrote back, YES.
After a minute he replied.
THEN WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?
I stared at the screen.
Because I hadn't known the whole truth myself.
Because money had never seemed important enough to define my husband.
Because my son hadn't bothered to ask a single sincere question about the man who loved me.
Finally I typed, YOU NEVER WANTED TO KNOW HIM.
The reply came almost instantly.
YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND WHAT FALLON IS AFRAID OF.
I called him.
He answered with a whisper.
“Mom, I can't talk now.”
“Wade, are you safe?”
There was a click, then a muffled voice ordering him to hang up.
He whispered one last sentence before the line died.
May you like
“Don't go back to the house.”
