In The Grace of Liars

Andi approved of the project and encouraged me to see it through. If the motivation hadn't been there already, her genuine happiness on learning of my intention would have sealed the deal for me. The boat had to be stripped before I could begin the patch work that it would require to become fully functional again.

Aside from my efforts to repair my badly damaged relationship with Andi I also had nagging questions that begged for answers regarding my mother. Those questions were accompanied by an ongoing apprehensiveness about what I would find. It wasn't that I didn't want to know more -- I did. But it seemed that every time I found out more about my mother, my own situation got a little worse. Despite that, being the glutton for punishment that I am, I couldn't help indulging my lingering curiosity by studying my mothers diary.

Reading her delicately scribed cursive handwriting that spelled out her deepest introspective thoughts was in a way therapeutic. It made me feel close to her again. Her familiar wit was woven into those pages in a way that made me smile at times, especially when she would reference something about me or an incident that I remembered. At other times, I choked up reading of her frustrations with her health and the emptiness she still felt from my fathers passing, even years after it happened. I read of her struggles with her doctors and her indecisiveness about and eventual rejection of yet another surgery that her doctors advised her to undergo.

She was angry with her doctors. This would have been her third heart surgery, the first two having failed to accomplish what her doctors promised would be nothing short of a miraculous repair of her damaged heart. Her cynicism regarding this new surgery was well earned and her words painted a picture of a woman exhausted with life and what she felt was a daily struggle for survival.

It wasn't until near the end of the her diary that her outlook started to improve, even as her health declined. She was at the same time spiritually uplifted and laid low with guilt surrounding her relationship with this mystery man. She never once wrote his name but clearly was deeply in love with him and found peace and respite from her daily struggles in his arms. But even despite this glimmer of happiness toward the end, my mothers diary was overall a bleak account of her inner thoughts that painted a stark contrast in my mind of the beautiful, loving, and nurturing woman that loved me and cared for me throughout my childhood.

I was nearing the end of my mothers diary when my cell phone rang. I answered the phone before the third ring when I saw Jesse's name pop up on the caller-id.

"Jesse, how was your trip?" I asked, trying to sound genial.

"I'm glad to be home. Europe is a nice place to visit but it's damn impossible to find a good burger. How are you and Andi settling in?" he asked.

"Getting on fine, thanks. Jesse, can I ask you a few questions?"

"About your mother?"

"You saw it coming, huh?" No surprise there.

"I've been thinking about it, Chris. You can ask whatever you'd like, but I can't promise answers to everything. A lot of this just isn't my place to tell."

"Jesse, someone has to talk to me about this."

"Go ahead, Chris. I'll tell you what I can."

I didn't hesitate to ask the big question. "Who was my mother with the night she died?"

Jesse didn't speak right away -- as if he were weighing his answer carefully. "Charging right in, huh? Chris I wish I could give you that information but I can't."

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because I promised someone a long time ago that I wouldn't."

"I think I have a right to know, don't you?" I asked, already growing impatient with my old friend.

"Absolutely. You absolutely have a right to know but I've never broken a promise to you and I'll likewise not start breaking promises that I've made to others."

Above all else he was a man of integrity. It was a quality that I admired greatly in him. It wasn't fair for me to ask him to cross that line, no matter how important I thought it was. I would have to go about this more delicately. He did say that he would answer what questions he could. I started pulling out whatever I could think of, hoping something would stick.

"How long have you known Aunt Marjorie?"

"Since before you were born. We were in school together. I courted her for a while but when I moved to the city to practice law she wouldn't come with me."

"I never knew that. You never told me."

"It was never relevant. And you never asked," he said plainly. "It's no secret."

"So that's how you met my father? Through Aunt M?"

"Well, through your mother actually. But I knew your mother through Marjorie, so six in one hand -- half a dozen in the other. It amounts to the same thing."

"Do you and Aunt M still keep in touch?" I asked.

"Not so much since your mother died. She called me when it happened -- she needed a friend and I was there for her. But after the funeral and after we got you situated things settled down and she kept to herself more."

"Do you know why she wants to keep me in the dark about my Mom?" I asked.

"My boy, you're asking the wrong questions. You're smarter than this."

He was leading me to something but he wouldn't come out and say what. He either didn't want to or he couldn't say but he wasn't giving me much to go on.

"Jesse, no one else will tell me anything. I've talked to Aunt M. and she broke down on me and then made me promise not to ask Aunt Janice anything."

"I see," he said.

"Well I'm glad someone does because I'm fumbling around like a blind man."

Jesse was silent for a moment and then, "Chris I haven't been in trial court in a good many years but I learned something there that has helped me ever since."

"What's that?"

"It's not what people say that gives their secrets away. It's what they choose not to say."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked.

"Well, I mean that there's something missing here, or I should say, someone. And that speaks volumes on it's own."

I thought about what he said for a minute. Someone missing... but who? And then suddenly it dawned on me. I had been overlooking the obvious the whole time. Jesse's statement made sense now.

"Uncle Dave," I said. "She didn't say I couldn't talk to Uncle Dave."

"Mmm," he said, noncommittally.

"Dave's been out of the picture for years. Maybe she thinks I don't know how to get in touch with him anyway so she didn't bother to mention him."

"Hmm. People aren't generally that hard to track down these days, what with the internet. I doubt that was her motive for the omission."

"So maybe she didn't mention him because she was hoping I wouldn't think to look him up? Mentioning him would remind me that he was around back then."

"Chris, I've got some clients waiting on me. It sounds like you've got some things to do. Is there anything else you need before I go?"

"Yeah, there is," I said.

"Go ahead."

"Thanks Jesse. I knew you would help me."

"Hold on there, my boy. I didn't help you do anything and I didn't tell you anything that I wasn't allowed to. All I wanted to do was get you to analyze the facts that you already had. If something I said helped you do that, then I'm glad I could be of assistance."

A lawyer to the core -- but I never held that against him. It was part of his charm.

###

Andi hadn't talked to her father in years. In fact, it had been since the divorce. She took it very hard in the beginning and to make matters worse, whenever she would ask her mother about where he was or why she didn't get to see him Janice would deflect or dismiss Andi's questions. Without a doubt it was a poor way to handle the situation. Even at the time -- when I was sixteen -- I recognized that there was something not right about it. Unfortunately no amount of questioning from Andi would lead her mother to be forthcoming with any actionable information about where her father was or why she wasn't allowed to see him anymore.

To say that I was nervous about bringing the subject up with Andi would be an understatement. I knew that she wanted to talk to her father but after so many years and several conversations on the subject, I also knew that it would cause some anxieties for her. But I did want to know what happened to my mother and if Uncle Dave had information that could help me put the pieces together -- or better yet if he could tell me out-right what happened, it would bring some closure to the mystery. I briefly entertained the thought of tracking him down and talking to him without telling Andi but almost as soon as I considered the thought it struck me as another betrayal of her trust. That was something I simply wasn't willing to do. Not again.

I was more careful now to not make any rash decisions where Andi was involved and thought on it for over a week before I eventually decided to bring it up to her. It was with much trepidation that I approached her about it. I admit, had I not been so absorbed in my own anxieties about how to bring it up to her I might have noticed that it maybe wasn't the best time.

She wasn't much for television, and usually only watched TV when something was on her mind. I almost abandoned my original intention of bringing it up when I walked in the house to find her curled up against the arm of the couch, hugging a pillow to her chest and gazing blankly in the general direction of the TV. Some daytime drama played out on the screen but the sound was off and I could tell she wasn't actually watching what was on.

"What's up?" I asked.

I don't know if I spoke too quietly or if Andi was just so deep in thought that I didn't get through but she didn't respond.

Louder this time, "Andi?"

Andi turned her head suddenly and looked at me. Her face remained blank for a moment before she relaxed and managed a weak smile. "Hi," she said.

"Hey. You look like you're lost in thought. Something on your mind?" I asked, not sure if I wanted to put more on her plate when she was obviously dealing with something else.

"Yeah. Something is," she said simply without elaborating.

"Something you want to talk about?" I asked.

"Yeah. But you first. Did you need something?"

She hadn't moved from her position on the couch which worried me. She was usually very animated when she spoke.

"Well, I did, but I'm not sure this is the best time. Are you OK?"

"I'm OK, Chris. What did you want to ask me?"

She wouldn't go first, I knew, and if I pushed her she would shut down. I wanted to know what was going on with her but if I wanted to find out I'd have to put my own cards on the table first.

"Well, I talked to Jesse last week."

Andi said nothing, she simply sat and waited for me to continue.

"He wouldn't tell me anything else about Mom."

Realization dawned on her. We hadn't talked much about the ongoing mystery. She knew it was still bothering me but wasn't pushing me one way or the other toward any kind of resolution or resignation. Being the friend that she was, she was letting me come to one or the other on my own.

"I'm sorry. I thought for sure he would be able to tell you something."

"Apparently he promised someone that he wouldn't talk to me about it," I said.

Andi crunched her brow as she considered that. "Someone who?"

"I have my suspicions regarding that. Did you know that he and Aunt Marjorie used to be an item back in the day?"

She raised her brows and smiled, "No, I didn't. I've never heard of Aunt M. dating anyone. As long as I can remember she's never had a boyfriend."

"I know. I was surprised too."

"So that's all he told you?"

"Well, yes and no. He kind of implied something else though."

"What's that?" she asked.

I hesitated for a moment, not sure how to say what I needed to say and apprehensive about how Andi would respond.

"Chris, what?" she asked, impatiently.

"Without coming out and saying it ... he said that I should talk to your father about it."

Andi looked away from me just then.

"I didn't want to do that without talking it over with you first."

Andi nodded, still not looking at me. I thought that she would say something but she sat silently and chewed her bottom lip.

"So would it be OK with you if I try to track him down?" I asked.

Andi sighed and then shook her head in resignation. "You don't have to track him down," she said as she met my gaze again. "I've got his cell number."

"You do? Have you talked to him?" I asked.

"No. I've had it for a while now. I wanted to call him but ... I don't know. I figure if he wanted to talk to me he'd have gotten in touch." Andi stood up and walked over to the island in the kitchen where her purse sat. She rummaged through it for a minute and then pulled out a small piece of paper. She handed it to me.

"Call him. If it'll help you find out what happened to your mom, then call him."

I looked at the torn bit of paper with the phone number scrawled on it and then back to her.

"Are you sure, Andi? I can let this go. I mean, if this is going to cause any pain for you then I won't do it. It's not that important to me."

"Yes it is. It's your mom. I've been looking for an excuse to talk to him anyway. I just haven't had the nerve."

"OK then. Thanks Andi," I said as I pulled her into a tight bear hug.

"Now what's bothering you?" I asked, still holding her close to me.

Her tone was flat, devoid of any emotion, emphasis, or inflection as she spoke.

"I'm pregnant."

###

To this day, I've never in my life heard two more terrifying words. My mind went totally blank as her voice seared itself into my memory. I can still recall the deadpan, emotionless tones that strung together to make those two words.

Even then I was pragmatic enough to realize that pregnancy doesn't always come at a convenient time. I guess I was also naïve enough to think that when it happened to me -- when I found a woman that I wanted to have children with, that we would be able to plan for it; to prepare. I certainly didn't expect that the one time I gave in to my lust for my cousin that the result would be a child. For three years (more or less) Jennifer and I had an active sex life and not once did we even get a scare. But one time with Andi and it happened.

I didn't know how to respond to her. I don't think any unsuspecting first time father-to-be knows how to respond to those two words. As a rule we do a poor job of dealing with it and I'm sorry to say that I'm no exception.

"Aren't you on the pill? I thought you were on the pill..." my voice trailed off as I sat down on the couch, suddenly in need of a place to sit.

"Not that you ever asked, but yes I'm on the pill. It's not a hundred percent, Chris. Girls can still get pregnant on the pill, it's just not as likely."

I didn't know what to say. So many different scenarios flew through my mind. I wanted to hug Andi and tell her it would be OK. I wanted to tell her that we could figure something out. In my whole life I had never come up against a problem that I couldn't find a solution for. But this was something new. This wasn't just a problem -- it wasn't just a matter of the heart, or a matter of finding money. This was bigger than a property purchase or a cheating girlfriend or a car that wouldn't start. This was another person -- another human being that would need care and attention and a loving home and more than anything else, it would need something that neither me nor Andi currently had. It would need two caring and supportive parents.

"Don't you have anything to say?" she asked.

"Andi, I ... I don't know."

"Don't have an answer for this one, do you? You're not going to swoop in and save the day again?" Tears were flowing freely down her face as she spoke. Her words, cynical as they were carried no venom. They lacked the bite of sarcasm. When she spoke her tone was pleading. She was asking me what to do -- asking me for answers that were too slow in coming.

"What about -" I stammered, not sure how to put into words what I was thinking. "Is the baby going to be OK? I mean, will it be healthy? Genetically ... we're related -"

Andi mercifully cut me off. "I did some research. We're cousins Chris. We're not brother and sister. The baby should be fine -- should be healthy."

My mind raced, touching on every option that I could think of. Adoption? The thought of it felt hollow and as soon as I considered the thought I knew it wasn't an option. This was my child that Andi was carrying as much as it was hers. I didn't believe that she would have the heart to give up a child after carrying and delivering it. More than that, I didn't think I would be able to look at myself in the mirror knowing that I had a child out in the world somewhere. After losing both of my parents the thought of not being there for my own child left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Abortion was off the table. The idea was abhorrent to me -- offensive. I knew Andi would feel the same way. We had discussed the topic in the past and we shared each others views on it. To each their own, but not for me. Not for my child.

If she kept the baby we could stay here at the camp. We could raise the baby together and tell the rest of the family that it was a one night stand. We could say that she didn't know how to get in touch with the father. But to do that we would have to perpetrate a lie -- not only to the rest of the family but to our own child. At best I would be 'Uncle Chris'. That wasn't good enough for me. That wasn't good enough for my child.

We only had one option. There was only one thing to do. My mind cleared as the maelstrom of thoughts raging in my head settled to gentle breeze. A thousand tons of weight lifted from my spirit as I saw clearly for the first time since I read that last page of my mother's diary.

Andi was carrying my child. Andi was going to have my baby. Andi -- my beloved Andi whom I had loved and cared for my whole life was going to be the mother of my child. It wasn't a matter of guilt or shame anymore. It wasn't a matter of what anyone else thought. Every doubt, every pause, every hesitation that I felt before evaporated in an instant -- squashed under the weight of this new responsibility. Nothing else in the world mattered except for giving that child everything we could. Damn them all if they would judge us.

"We have to keep the baby." I said, flatly.

"I know," she replied, dismissively as she wiped tears from her cheek and then did a double take. "Wait, 'we' have to keep the baby?" she asked.

I nodded affirmatively.

"So what are we going to do, Chris? What are we going to tell mom and Aunt M?" she asked, clearly angry now.

"The truth." I said.

"The truth? What about that sermon that you gave me a week ago? What about all that stuff about tearing the family apart? Does that not matter to you any more?"

"Yes it matters, Andi. But it doesn't matter nearly as much as giving this baby a good life. I don't see any way to do that if you and I aren't together. I don't want this baby to grow up like you and I did. Andi, we don't have two parents between us! You can't tell me that you want that for our child."

"Of course I don't! But I also don't want to -" she stopped abruptly mid-sentence.

"Don't want to what?" I asked.

Andi put her face in her hands and collapsed onto the other end of the couch, resting her elbows on her knees as she cradled her face, hiding her tears from me.

"I don't want to be with someone that doesn't feel the same way about me as I feel for them. I don't want to be with you just because I'm pregnant. I don't want to be an obligation to you, Chris."

"Andi, no... that's not it."

"How can you say that now after what you said last week?"

"Andi, I love you. More than anyone on earth, I love you."

She looked into my eyes. Her face bore an expression of both pain and hope; her eyes pleading, desperately seeking the truth in my own.