Chapter 14 - A Message from the Dead
"How did she know about me?" Austin asked.
Mark replayed the last thirty seconds.
It did not change.
Melissa had said another child in that house.
Sarah looked at Margaret.
Margaret shook her head.
"I never spoke to her after the letter."
Mark called Jason.
He answered on the first ring.
"Did Melissa know about Austin?"
"Austin?"
"Sarah's son. My stepson."
Jason was quiet.
"She followed your family online."
Sarah's face tightened.
"For how long?"
"Years. She had fake accounts. She'd look at public photos. School events. Birthdays. She knew Mark remarried."
Austin stared at the laptop.
"So a woman I never met saw the problem before he did."
Mark could not argue.
Jason continued.
"She used to say Mark had one dangerous habit."
"What?" Mark asked.
"He loved hard, but only after he decided something was his."
Mark's face changed.
Jason sighed.
"Her words, not mine."
After the call, Mark went to the garage.
This time he left the door open.
Austin noticed.
Mark pulled down two storage tubs from a shelf.
Old family photos.
Little League medals.
Crayon drawings.
He began sorting.
Sarah stood in the doorway.
"What are you doing?"
"Looking for the first time I made him feel second."
"You won't find one moment."
"I know."
Mark held up a Christmas photo from five years earlier.
Lily sat on his shoulders wearing a new red coat.
Austin stood beside them in a hand-me-down jacket.
He had been smiling.
Mark felt sick.
"I thought he was easygoing."
Sarah's voice softened, but not much.
"Easygoing kids still notice. They just learn not to ask."
That night was their first therapy session.
Mark hated every minute of it.
Not because the therapist was cruel.
Because she kept asking simple questions he could not dodge.
"When Austin calls you Dad, what do you feel?"
Mark stared at the carpet.
"Proud."
"Then why did you say you never asked him to?"
He swallowed.
"Because I wanted to win the argument."
Austin looked at him.
The therapist nodded.
"And what did winning cost?"
Mark's eyes burned.
"My son's trust."
It was the first time since the fight that he had called Austin his son without hesitation.
Austin looked down.
Nobody celebrated it.
That mattered.
The session ended with homework: one-on-one time with each child, chosen by the child, no gifts allowed.
On the drive home, Austin said, "I know what I want to do."
Mark looked over.
"Name it."
Austin pointed toward the old baseball field as they passed.
"Tomorrow. Six a.m."
May you like
Mark almost smiled.
Then Austin added, "And I want you to bring the Father's Day card I crossed out."
