"Mercy, we don't talk to strangers." Emily's voice is tight and controlled. She's one degree away from snapping.
Mercy looks up at her and frowns. "He's not a stranger, Mama. He fixes the bakery…" She looks confused and hurt by that and scowls, now fully ignoring me.
"You're six years old and you don't know everything. Come on, let's go." Emily tries grabbing her hand, but Mercy shies away. I can't believe she'd just drag her kid away from me like I'm dangerous. I go to say something but Mercy's frown deepens and she plants her feet hard, refusing to move.
"I'm seven. My birthday was in winter, remember?" Her little arms cross over her chest as the words slice through the center of my chest, cutting me wide open.
"Em?" I mumble, knowing deep in my gut that she lied to me.
The market noise fades and the people passing behind me blur, and all I can do is stand there gawking. If Mercy turned sevenin January, that means she was conceived sometime in April, which was right when I was deployed. That means Emily fucking lied to me and that kid really is mine.
Emily grabs Mercy's hand and pulls her away from me. "Let's go find those blueberries, baby." Her voice is shaking now and she won't look at me. She steers Mercy across the aisle toward the berry booth but I follow them, closing the distance hastily. I want to grab her arm, but she'll just shriek and there are so many people around here to witness that.
"Emily."
"Not here, Jaxon."
"You lied to me?" I hiss, but I feel the rage exploding through my whole body. Adrenaline shoots through my veins, making me shake as I try to control my reaction. I'm in public. I can't melt down.
Emily positions Mercy at the berry booth and hands her the paper bag. "Pick out the ones you want, sweetheart. Mama will be right here." She waits until Mercy's occupied and then turns to face me, stepping in close so the conversation stays between us.
"I can't do this right now, please, Jaxon. My daughter is right there."
"Ourdaughter, Emily? That's what you've been hiding from me? She's not six… She's already seven, and that means you were pregnant when I left and—" I run an angry hand through my hair so I don't grab her, and I grit my teeth to keep from exploding in a rage.
"Stop it." Her eyes are filling up and her chin is trembling and I can see the panic spreading across her face. She looks over her shoulder at Mercy, who's carefully placing blueberries into the bag one at a time, then she turns back to me.
"Tell me the truth. Right fucking now," I growl under my breath.
"Jaxon, please?—"
"Tell me."
The tears break and run down her cheeks as she bites her lips together. I watch her whole body change, the tension in her shoulders releasing all at once, everything she's been holding crumbling right in front of me. "Yes," she croaks. "She's yours, okay? She's yours."
I take a half step back and bump into someone, but my head is spinning. Fearing it or assuming it still leaves room for doubt. When it wasn't a fact it left me wide open to still hope Emily wasn't a liar or trying to hurt me. But hearing her say those words destroys anything I thought I had left. It's a shock too large for my ability to process shit.
"No." I shake my head. "I don't believe you."
Emily stares at me through her tears. "What?"
"There's no way I have a kid and nobody told me. Not you, not your parents, not my parents, not a single person in this town." I don't mean to, but my voice is raised as the emotion takes control and I can't stop it. "You're lying. You've been lying this whole time and now you're saying whatever you think will make me stop asking."
"Jaxon, I'm not?—"
"You looked me dead in the face and lied to me, Em…" I back away, still shaking my head, so oblivious to anything around me that people start walking between me and Emily. This can't be happening.
"I tried to reach you. I waited for months and?—"
"Bullshit," I spit, and a woman at the booth next to us turns her head. I can feel people staring now, the conversation spilling into the Saturday morning crowd.
The woman running the honey booth steps around her table and puts herself between us, facing me. She's maybe sixty, with reading glasses on a chain around her neck. "Sir, is everything okay here?" Her nasally voice is grating. I almost nudge her aside.
"Everything's fine." I hold up my hands and take another step back. I'm too angry to stand here dealing with this. I'm too angry to go to the bank, or drive home, or anything else, for that matter. She fucking lied?
"Emily, honey, you alright?" The woman turns to Emily, who's wiping her face with the back of her hand and nodding, trying to pull herself together. Mercy is watching us now, the bag of blueberries clutched against her chest.
"Jaxon, please," Emily whimpers, reaching for me, but I turn and stomp off, not even sure where I'm going. I have to think.
