“It’s Hebrew. It means ‘sister.’”
Ashlyn pressed a hand to her mouth, overwhelmed by the thought of a young mother having to write such a letter, the heartbreak of knowing she was unlikely to survive the birth of her child, and the trust it must have taken to give that child over to a woman who, five months earlier, had been a stranger. No wonder Marian had committed every word to memory.
“She was lucky to have you,” Ashlyn said quietly. “I can’t imagine having to make that kind of decision or write that kind of letter.”
“I don’t know when she wrote it, but she knew she wasn’t coming home before we left for the hospital. I think she was just tired of fighting. It still astonishes me that she could think of me at such a time.”
“But you knew what she was suggesting in the letter?”
“Yes. I knew. I used to talk about going home someday. She knew I couldn’t, though—and why. And so she made me a gift of her dead son’s name—to wash all clean. By claiming Zachary was Ilese’s older brother and not my natural child, we would both be free of the stigma of illegitimacy. The certificate was dated October 9, 1941, nine months before Thomas was born, but I knew I could make it work. And I did. I never went back to New York. Not to live, anyway. I was still afraid of my father. But I could go where I wanted and start over fresh, and I did. We did.”
“In Marblehead.”
“Yes.” She managed a watery smile. “In the house at the end of the earth.”
“When Ethan and I figured it out, we agreed not to say anything. We honestly didn’t mean for it to come up tonight. Or ever.”
“Thank you for that, but I saw you look at Ethan when Ilese was talking about Zachary and I knew you knew. I suppose it doesn’t matter now. Zachary is all grown up and long past needing my protection. If anything, he’s become my protector and I love him for it. He knows, by the way. They both do.”
“All of it?”
Marian looked away uncomfortably. “I didn’t name names if that’s what you’re asking. But I sat them down and explained that biologically they weren’t really brother and sister. Zachary was fourteen. Ilese was twelve. I wanted to wait until they were a little older, but Ilese started asking questions about why she and Zachary looked nothing alike. One of her classmates put the bug in her ear and she wouldn’t let it go. So I had the talk.”
“How did they take it?”
“Zachary shrugged and asked if he could have a snack. Ilese took a little longer to come around. She didn’t care about me having a baby out of wedlock—I actually think she thought that part was brave—but she was terribly upset that I’d lied about Zachary. She’s always been that way. Swift to punish if you don’t live up to her standards. I was afraid it would come between them. If anything, it made them closer. That’s like her too. She has a big heart; she just hides it behind all that ferocity. Later, when Zachary and I were alone, I asked if he wanted to know who his father was. I told him I might be able to arrange for them to meet if he wanted me to.”
“And he said no?”
“He said he didn’t think it was fair to Ilese that he’d have a father and she wouldn’t. He said he’d never had a father before, so why did he need one now? He thought the three of us were doing just fine.”
Ashlyn couldn’t help being impressed. “What an incredible way to look at it.”
Marian smiled. “That’s how he is. He rolls with things. And we were happy, though I wonder sometimes if he said no because he thought I wanted him to. He always seemed aware of my need for privacy, even if he didn’t understand why I needed it. Or maybe he just didn’t want to upset the balance of things. It would have been a wedge between him and Ilese and he was always very careful about that sort of thing, about maintaining their relationship as siblings, even after they knew the truth. Hemi suddenly entering the picture would have been . . . awkward.”
Ashlyn understood. “It’s clear from the way Ilese talks about Zachary that they’re very close. A father who was his but not hers suddenly turning up might have put a dent in that bond.” But what about Hemi? Didn’t he have a right to know he had a son? “Did you ever consider telling Hemi?”
“Only every day.” Marian’s face seemed close to crumpling. She sighed, briefly closing her eyes. “And I would have . . . for Zachary’s sake. I had actually resigned myself to it. But when Zachary said no, I was relieved. Telling him would mean opening a door I wasn’t ready to reopen. As far as I was concerned, that door closed forever the day he went back on his word and printed that story. There was no way back after that. For either of us.”
Ashlyn nodded. “I guess I get it. I just thought if he knew . . .”
Marian’s eyes flashed with annoyance. “I know what you thought, that he would have married me for the sake of our son and we would have lived happily ever after. You sound like Dickey.”
Ashlyn sat back in her chair, processing Marian’s response. “He knew about Zachary?”
“You forget, my nephew actually knew Hemi. It took all of five minutes for him to solve the mystery of my son’s paternity—and to start lecturing me about how I was wrong to keep the truth from Hemi. Not just wrong for Zachary’s sake, or even for Hemi’s, but for my own. All those years later, he still believed we could put it back together. But I didn’t want Hemi like that. And he apparently didn’t want me at all.”
“How can you say that? He wanted to marry you.”
“Once, perhaps. But he never came looking for me. Never called or wrote a single letter.”
“He wrote you a book,” Ashlyn reminded her pointedly.
She nodded wearily. “Yes, he did. I remember the day it came. When I read the inscription, I thought he’d found out about Zachary—that he was asking how I could have kept his son from him. Then I started reading and realized it was just another attempt to paint himself as the injured party. He wasn’t interested in the truth. Or in me. It felt like a vindication, proof that he didn’t deserve to know. I’m sure it looks terrible to an outsider. Heartless and selfish. And perhaps it was. But Zachary was happy growing up and that’s what I cared about. I loved him enough for both of us and always will. The rest of it doesn’t matter anymore.”
“I’m not sure I believe that,” Ashlyn replied softly. “I’m not even sure you do.”
Marian studied her, neatly manicured fingertips drumming on the white tablecloth. “I asked you before and I’ll ask you again. What is all this to you?”
“I don’t know. I realize it isn’t any of my business, but I can’t help feeling that you two were truly meant to be together, that what happened was all a terrible mistake.”