Chapter 3 - The Question My Wife Couldn’t Take Back
The waiting room went silent around us.
Natalie opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
I stood.
“How do you know there are adoption papers?”
She shook her head too quickly.
“I guessed.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Your father was asking about adoption records. You told me that.”
“I told you he said ‘old adoption files.’ I never told you they were mine.”
Her eyes shifted to Priya.
“You’re upsetting him while his father is in surgery.”
Priya’s voice stayed level.
“I haven’t accused you of anything.”
“You don’t have to. Look at him.”
I stepped between them.
“Stop. Both of you.”
Natalie grabbed my wrist.
“Grant, your dad has never liked me.”
“That isn’t true.”
“He barely tolerates me.”
“He helped pay for our house.”
“And he reminds us every chance he gets.”
“He has never mentioned it once.”
She let go of my wrist.
That was when a surgeon entered the room.
“Family of Raymond Mercer?”
Everything else disappeared.
I moved toward him.
“I’m his son.”
The word came out automatically.
Son.
Not nephew.
Not adopted child.
Son.
The surgeon introduced himself as Dr. Cole and told us Dad had survived the repair, but the next twenty-four hours mattered. He had lost blood. His heart was under strain. He was being moved to intensive care.
“Can I see him?”
“Briefly, once the team gets him settled.”
My knees almost gave out from relief.
Natalie put a hand against my back.
I moved away from it.
Two hours later, I was allowed into the ICU.
Dad looked smaller than I had ever seen him. Tubes. Monitors. Pale skin. A machine breathed with him.
I sat beside the bed and took his hand.
“You stubborn old man,” I whispered. “You could have just told me.”
His fingers moved.
Barely.
I leaned closer.
His eyes opened a fraction.
“Dad?”
His lips moved around the breathing tube.
I could not hear him.
He tried again.
I bent until my ear was almost against his mouth.
Two words.
“Blue folder.”
“What?”
His fingers tightened around mine with surprising strength.
“Furnace.”
A nurse stepped closer.
“Sir, he needs to rest.”
Dad’s eyes opened wider.
He shook his head.
“Blue folder behind the furnace?” I asked.
He blinked once.
Yes.
Then his eyes drifted toward the door.
Fear crossed his face.
I followed his gaze.
Natalie was standing outside the glass wall of the ICU.
Watching us.
Dad’s hand clamped around mine again.
May you like
And the monitor beside him began to scream.
