He regretted the word.
Evelyn flinched slightly.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
They completed the swabs.
The technician said results could take several days.
Evelyn asked whether expedited analysis was possible.
Of course she did.
Twenty-four hours.
They sat in a quiet waiting area afterward.
Daniel opened the box.
Evelyn looked inside.
Her face changed.
She lifted the pink ribbon.
“I remember something.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“What?”
“Maybe.”
She touched the ribbon.
“Someone tying my hair too tight.”
Daniel laughed.
“That was my mother.”
Evelyn looked up.
“Your mother?”
“Your grandmother.”
The word hit both.
Daniel continued more carefully.
“She babysat while I worked.”
“What was her name?”
“Margaret.”
Evelyn whispered it.
Nothing.
She picked up the wooden horse.
“This is terrible.”
Daniel stared.
“You insulted that exact horse when you were four.”
She looked at him sharply.
“What did I say?”
“You said its legs looked like hot dogs.”
Evelyn laughed.
Then stopped.
A memory had moved through her.
Daniel saw it.
“What?”
“A kitchen.”
“What kitchen?”
“I don’t know.”
She closed her eyes.
“Yellow curtains.”
Daniel’s mother had yellow curtains.
His breath caught.
Evelyn opened her eyes.
“Is that real?”
“Yes.”
She began crying.
Daniel reached toward her.
Stopped.
She noticed.
Then, for the first time, Evelyn leaned into him.
Only slightly.
Daniel put one arm around her.
She was thirty-three.
Successful.
Powerful.
A stranger.
His daughter.
Maybe.
They sat like that for less than a minute.
Then Evelyn pulled away.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t.”
She wiped her face.
“I’m not usually…”
“You don’t have to explain.”
The next day at 2:41 p.m., the laboratory called.
Daniel was underneath a Ford pickup when his phone rang.
He nearly hit his head climbing out.
“Mr. Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“This is Dr. Larson from Colorado Genomic Services.”
Daniel gripped the workbench.
Evelyn was on the conference line.
He heard her breathing.
The doctor continued.
“The probability of biological paternity is greater than 99.999 percent.”
Daniel stopped hearing everything after that.
Maddy.
Alive.
He had found her.
No.
She had found him.
“Maddy.”
Silence on the line.
Evelyn whispered, “Daniel.”
Not Dad.
Not yet.
That mattered.