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****
Morning editions across the country carried the bizarre story of the kidnapping. Once again, the names Mark Chambers, Eric Laine, and Jenna Welles, a.k.a. Angel, were splashed in bold type on the front pages of most major newspapers. A throng of reporters congregated in front of Jenna’s house waiting for a statement and the answer to a long-asked question.
Who was the biological father of Angel’s daughter? Was it her ex-husband or the man who had, at the time, claimed to be having a torrid affair with her?
****
Eric woke groggy and in pain. Nick was already standing sentinel at a window with a cup in hand.
“Did you get any sleep, Nick?”
“Some,” came the gruff reply. “Your ex-brother-in-law was up with the birds. There’s coffee in the kitchen.”
Eric hunched over as he tried to stretch his spine and flatten the knotty tightness from his neck. “What’s it look like out there?”
“About what you’d expect.”
Carelessly shoving his hair out of his face, he unfolded his tender body in slow inches until upright. An assault, a week spent on a paper-thin mattress, and a forty-foot fall some four years earlier, were all simultaneously gripping muscle and bone. He uttered a shaky hum as he stood and limped to the front door. His shirt was creased with wrinkles, the tails hanging over equally rumpled tuxedo pants. He looked like the morning after a very good, or very bad prom.
Nick at once voiced a protest as Eric grabbed the doorknob to turn it. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You can’t go out there like that.”
“Watch me.”
“Do you really want to be on the cover of every tabloid in America looking like something the cat dragged in?”
“I don’t give a shit. I want this whole thing over, and the only way to do it is to give them their story.”
Nick continued to plead his argument as Eric walked out into the morning light. “At least put your shoes on!”
Outside the clicking and whirring of cameras resounded like a nocturnal symphony of forest wildlife. It was a sound Eric Laine had become immune to over the years. He stood stock-still until the last mechanical chirp finished assaulting the air. A deep thrumming began to echo. It was a low melding of voices that quickly rose to a crescendo as reporters fought for his attention. He pressed his tongue to his teeth and pierced the air with a whistle.
“I’m only going to give you a minute, so listen up. Last night my daughter was kidnapped by Mark Chambers, the man who assaulted my wife ten years ago. You know her as Angel. Those of you who were members of the press corps back then know there was speculation about the paternity of her baby. I’ll set the record straight. Her daughter is mine.”
Spasms gripped his torso, and he brought one hand to his side. More cameras shuttered to capture his pain. “The details of why she and I divorced are private. The reasons she gave up her career…simple. Look around. It should be obvious to every one of you holding a camera or microphone. The other reason is behind bars where hopefully he’ll spend the rest of his life.”
“Eric!” one reporter shouted while waving his microphone at him. “What about your divorce? Are you getting back together with Angel after it becomes final?”
“None of your business. Now you’re on private property. Get out of here, all of you. Leave us alone…please.”
Eric stepped back inside and leaned against the closed door. His aches, the dull insistent pains, were as much emotional as physical. The reporter’s question stung. Getting back together with Jenna, a dream so close to coming true had withered and died with one sentence. “I’m sorry, I should have told you.”
Why, Jen, why?Why didn’t you?
****
Gently, Jenna adjusted the blankets and pulled them up around her sleeping daughter’s chin. She stroked Janie’s soft cheek and placed a kiss on her forehead before going downstairs to face Eric. She found him sitting at the kitchen table sipping coffee, alone and waiting.
Beginning the long and overdue conversation was one of the hardest things she had ever faced. She owned no reserve of courage. The integrity of her secret lived only in her conscience, building overtime until it became fact. In reality it wasn’t. Keeping his child from him was indefensible.
She took a seat at the table. Eric looked broken, and Jenna fought the sting of tears. It would be too cruel to beg for sympathy by crying. She could at least spare him that.
“How is she?” he asked.
“Still asleep. When she was little, she would cry if she was having a nightmare. She didn’t.”
He nodded behind his cup. “Good. That’s good.”
“Yes, it is.” Jenna twined her fingers together and took a slow breath. “I can’t ask you to forgive what I did. The most I can do is explain why.”
