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"What's her full name?"
"Amelia Harper,” I tell her reluctantly, knowing what's coming next—the Della background check.
I can hear her typing at her computer. Then silence. Then an "Ahem, Amelia Harper, from Palm Springs. This is interesting, says here she runs a fashion house, Artemis, with her designs going into boutiques everywhere across California. Has quite the name for herself."
"Yeah, she mentioned she runs a successful business and doesn't need any money from me," I agree, wondering what her point is if she can clearly see she's not looking for money.
"It might not be money she’s after; maybe she has you in her sights to help grow her brand further. If she has a connection to you, every young girl in America will want to be wearing her clothes to be just like her. She's smart, I'll give her that," she says, like that must be the answer, there’s no other possible explanation. Like that I'm actually a dad.
"There is no way she has some harebrained scheme to use me," I snap. I've had enough of this conversation.
"Touchy today, Heath." She laughs like I'm the one being ridiculous. "All I'm saying is get a paternity test. Don't just take her word for it. You need to protect yourself."
I don't respond, how can I do that? I might as well just come out and call her a liar. It would be a slap in the face either way. Nope, there is no way I need some test to confirm it. I know he’s mine, I can feel it. "He looks just like me," I say, knowing my argument sounds weak, but it's the truth.
"I'm sure there are lots of young boys that resemble you, Heath, it means nothing."
Mom pops her head out the front door, giving me a worried look. She is probably wondering why I have been wearing the floorboards down with my pacing back and forth.
"Got to go. For now, this stays between us, okay? Until I know more." The last thing I want is a van full of paparazzi turning up at Amelia's and scaring the shit out of her and the kids.
"The way I see it, there's nothing to tell. Get that test done, you'll see, honey."
I disconnect the call. I've had about enough of Della's uppity attitude for today. She might have been with us for ten years, but she doesn't know everything about me.
"Heath, is everything all right? That call sounded a little heated." Mom looks concerned.
I'm sure she overheard half of that conversation. I have been standing on her front porch for the last half an hour trying to deal with Della. "Umm, I don't know." I run a hand through my hair, the thump of a dull headache still pounding. How do I tell her she's a grandma?
She takes a seat on one of the porch chairs and pats the one next to her. "What's going on?" she says in her smooth motherly tone.
I take a seat beside her, propping my feet up on the railing. "Mom, did you ever have a time in your life where you just felt like everything was wrong? I can't really explain it. I feel ungrateful because I know I have been so lucky to go off and live my dreams and make the money I do. People would kill to be in my position, but I feel like doing that means I missed out on another life where I could have been just as happy. And now it's too late to get that back."
"What are you talking about? Does this have something to do with you going to your reunion last night?"
I look at my mom, long dark hair she wears in a neat bun, jeans, and a floral shirt. Considering she singlehandedly raised me and my sister, she looks young and happy. She gave us everything she could and asks for nothing in return. If anyone would understand what it's like for Amelia right now, it would be her. She lived the same life. "Do you remember Amelia Harper?"
She smiles with warmth, her eyes lighting up as she thinks about her. “How could I forget her? The two of you were inseparable."
"Did she call here looking for me?"
"A few times. I told her you were going to the reunion. Hope that was okay to say. She wanted your number, but I wasn't sure if I should give it out. I should have told you, shouldn't I? I'm sorry, love, I just forgot every time we spoke."
"It's not your fault, I just wish you had told me she was trying to call. She had been trying to get in contact with me for months, but Della blocked her."
"I didn't realize. Why was she so desperate to speak to you?"
"I have a son." I say it in a rush, hoping that makes it all come out better.
Her eyes go wide in shock, and a hand comes to her chest. "W-what?" she says slowly.
"Amelia's boy, Connor. He's nine, and he's biologically mine."
Her expression changes from shock to anger. "And she kept this from you for ten years?"
"No, she only just found out when they had to run some blood tests. She has been trying to contact me since she found out. That's who I was with this afternoon, trying to work out what happened. It's so crazy, right? I don't know what to do." I run my hand through my hair, tugging at the ends. At this point, I'm going to be bald before I hit thirty with all the stress this week.
She wraps her arms around me, like a hug from her could fix this mess. "What can I do to help?" And it's exactly what I need to hear. I have no idea what she can do to help but just knowing I have her here for me is enough.
