I was going to have to tell them that their daughter was wanted by an international terrorist.
I didn’t know if this was the right thing to do or not. Emory hadn’t explicitly told me not to, although he did make it clear that people weren’t supposed to know. Still, these were my parents, and they were involved as well.
They had to know, I decided. I didn’t care what Emory wanted. This was my family and my decision.
Once we were finally back inside the house, I took Mason upstairs while Mom started on a late lunch. I heard Dad’s car pull into the driveway while I rocked Mason, getting him ready for his nap.
“You’ll be okay,” I said to him, “perfectly okay. Daddy is here and we’ll be okay.”
I wasn’t worried about Mason being afraid. He was too young to be scared. I was saying these things for myself, and I knew it.
Finally, Mason seemed tired and on the verge of sleeping. Very carefully, I transferred him down into the crib. I made sure he didn’t wake up before sneaking out and heading back downstairs.
Dad was sitting at the kitchen table when I walked into the kitchen. He was a big man, portly, partially balding, with a big smile and a bigger heart. Dad was basically the nicest man I’d ever met, and everyone he knew agreed with me.
“Well look who it is,” he said. “The prodigal daughter returned.”
“Hi, Dad,” I said. I sat down at the table across from him.
“Your mom says you have something very important to tell us.”
Looking at Dad in that moment, I felt a stab of panic.
How could I tell these people and expect them to really believe me? Truthfully, I barely believed it myself. It was without a doubt the most insane thing I had ever heard, let alone believed.
And the more I let it stew, the more I believed it. He hadn’t really shown me any proof, but there was something about Emory that made me intuitively trust him.
Sure, he was a cocky asshole. There was no doubt that he frustrated me, pushed my buttons. But he was a Midwesterner like myself, and he seemed to genuinely care about my safety.
Plus, he was the father of my baby. No matter what happened, that was the truth and would never change.
Dad was looking at me expectantly, and I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t bring myself to say the words to them.
“Mason’s dad is back,” I said instead. “Emory is back.”
Dad raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yeah, really.”
“So you finally found him?”
“Well, no. He just showed up today, actually.”
Dad was giving me the look that meant I find this hard to believe. “Just out of nowhere?”
“Yes, Dad, out of nowhere.”
“Why?”
I paused. Why had Emory shown up? “He was looking for me,” I lied. “He wanted to see me again. He didn’t know about Mason.”
“And what does he think about having a son?”
“It’s complicated.”
Mom came over and put a hand on Dad’s shoulder. “That’s right. It is very complicated. Right, Roger?”
“Of course it is, Celine.” Dad smiled up at her.
“Look, I don’t know what’s going to happen with him and Mason, but we’re just getting started. So be nice, okay?”
“When am I ever not nice?” Dad asked.
Mom laughed and smacked his shoulder. “Just do what she says, Roger.”
He laughed. “Okay, fine. I’m out numbered. I’ll be nice to the man who knocked my little girl up and then disappeared.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Don’t mention it.”
That night, I couldn’t sleep. I kept having nightmares where my whole family was blown to little pieces on an airplane.
Around three in the morning, I climbed out of bed and walked down the hall. I pushed open Mason’s door and walked into the nursery. For a second, I was terrified that he wouldn’t be there.
But he was safe and sound.
I smiled to myself and sat down in the comfortable chair next to this crib.
So I’d lied to my parents earlier. Well, not exactly lied, but I left out a pretty important detail. Emory had found me, but I left out the real reason.
I felt guilty about that. My parents needed to know the truth sooner or later, but I needed to be surer before I did that. I also felt like Emory needed to be there to reassure them, otherwise I could already hear my father on the phone with the local police.
I felt like I was losing my mind. I was playing into Emory’s instructions without really questioning it. There was just something about him, something powerful. It was hard to ignore and to go against.
And he was the father of my son. I had to keep reminding myself of that, over and over again. No matter what happened, he was Mason’s father.