Part 23 (2/2)
”Would you, uh, like to sit down?” Father Jack asked. Father Jack, Dana thought. Easier to think of him as a father to thousands.
”Yes,” said Hugh, and nudged her toward a sofa.
She whispered, ”We got our answer. We can't stay.”
”We can,” he said softly. ”Let's make the trip worth it.” Lizzie was starting to squirm. ”Want me to hold her?”
Dana shook her head, s.h.i.+fted the baby to her shoulder, and jogged her gently.
Hugh sat beside Dana and addressed the priest. ”Has your family had any other instances of cancer?”
”No.” Father Jack took the wing-back chair and leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
”Any other hereditary illnesses?” Hugh asked.
”High blood pressure, but otherwise we're a hardy bunch.” He looked at Dana. ”Where do you live?”
”About a mile from where I grew up.”
”Did your mother ever marry?”
”She didn't live long enough.”
”Then you never had siblings.”
”No siblings. I was the focus of my mother's life, and after she died, the focus of my grandparents'.”
”What do your children do?” Hugh asked the priest.
Father Jack smiled. ”There are four boys. One's a techie, two are teachers, the last is working as a waiter in L.A. while he goes on casting calls. My older daughter-she's thirty-three-is a full-time mother. She has four kids. Her sister is studying law.”
Dana shot Hugh a sharp look. She didn't want him prolonging the visit. ”Lizzie's hungry. We ought to go.”
Hugh shot a glance at the far end of the room. ”Want to feed her there?”
Dana did not. She wasn't baring her breast in front of this man. Besides, the heat was stifling. She wanted to leave.
”Please stay a bit,” the priest said. ”I'd like to hear about your life.”
Pressing her lips into a thin line, she shook her head. ”There's no need.”
”It isn't a matter of need,” he said kindly-and Dana hated that. Where had he been all these years-happily raising his six children until they were happily independent, so that he could become a priest?
”It's me,” she said with a definite lack of grace, but unable to help herself. ”My need. I want to go home.” She sent Hugh a beseeching look and rose. Mercifully, he did the same.
Lizzie quieted some with the movement as Dana walked toward the door. Hugh opened it.
”Are you sure you won't stay just for a little while?” the priest asked. ”Maybe for lunch? Or we could go get a sandwich in town.”
Dana turned. ”And if someone came over to us and asked who we were, would you tell them?”
”Yes.”
”Wouldn't it hurt your career?”
”Absolutely not. I've fathered other children.”
”Illegitimate ones?” When he didn't answer, she said, ”What about the legitimate ones? Will you tell them about me?”
”I'd like to, but I have to know more about you first.”
”Why's that?” Dana asked sharply.
”Because they'll ask.”
”Not because you yourself want to know?”
”Dana,” Hugh said softly, but Father Jack held up a hand.
”She has a right to be angry,” he told Hugh, then said to Dana, ”and yes, I want to know more myself.”
”To make sure I'm yours?”
”You're mine.”
”How can you be sure?” she challenged. ”How do you know my mother wasn't with another man?”
The priest smiled. ”Wait here,” he said, backing into the house. ”For one minute more. Please.” He turned and went in the direction of his office.
Dana wanted to leave pretending that the man who had irresponsibly sowed his seed back in Madison was equally irresponsible now, but she didn't move. Overwhelmed and confused, she could only pa.s.s Lizzie to Hugh and brace her back with her hands.
”This is how I know,” said Father Jack, returning. He was holding out a framed photograph that showed him arm in arm with a young woman wearing a cap and gown. Both were beaming. ”This was taken last year at graduation in Wisconsin. That's my daughter Jennifer.”
Dana glanced at the picture, then did a double take. She took the photo from him, eyes glued to his daughter's face. It might have been her own. Apparently, every feature of Dana's that hadn't come from her mother was Jack's.
For all the years Dana had wanted a sibling, all the years she had wished her family was larger, to find she had a half-sister who looked so much like her was excruciating.
Her eyes filled, but she refused to cry. Instead, she asked, ”How can this be? We had different mothers.”
”Yes. Only her mother looked a lot like yours.” He paused, embarra.s.sed. ”Anyway, the rest of her came from my genes.”
Dana stared at the picture for another minute before handing it back. ”Well,” she said awkwardly, ”thank you. That decides it, I guess.” Her throat closed up. Turning, she began walking toward the car.
”I'd like to visit,” the priest called after her.
She didn't respond. She didn't have a clue as to what she wanted.
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