A walk to the lake? Uh oh. Molly must have something important to tell him to willingly give up a minute with her mother after being separated for three weeks. Besides, she had that look on her face, that narrowing of her lips they all recognized. Translation: she meant business. Molly had had that expression all her life—as a sleepless infant, a stubborn toddler, a serious child. He could only imagine what was in store when puberty hit full force. He wanted to ask her what was so important but knew his girl well enough to wait for her to speak.
Their feet crunched on the gravel path, punctuating the silence. Molly swallowed audibly and spoke, not looking at Jake. “I met someone special this summer.”
“Yeah?” A boy? Wouldn’t Molly be more likely to confide a romance to her mother? He had a bad feeling about this.
“Her name is Emma Levin.”
Memories walloped him. Jake concentrated on his feet, inspecting each step as if the pebbles on the path were sharp stilettos over a raging river. Right foot, then left, then right. When he spoke, his own voice sounded as if gravel filled his mouth and his throat. “How did you and . . . Emma figure it out?”
“There are all these old newspapers in the archive. I was so surprised, so freaked out. Why did I have to hear from Emma? Why didn’t you guys tell me?”
“I’m not sure I can explain it so you’ll understand.”
“I’m not a baby.”
He stared down at his feet. Every step was treacherous. “I know you’re not. But your mother and I have tried to forget. It was a very painful time.”
“But doesn’t Esther miss Rosa? Why didn’t Mom visit her sister in prison? And what about Emma—were you ever going to tell me I have a cousin? I don’t get it.”
The path opened out to the lake. Molly walked to the water and sat on the sandy beach. He stood next to her. The wavelets caught the sunlight and tossed it back to the sky.
“Esther was young.” Jake wanted to explain even though he knew it was futile. Sometimes he wasn’t sure he understood anymore. “She felt strongly about the war. When she saw cops beating people, she reacted. She used bad judgment. It was wrong and she told the truth in court. She paid for her mistake.” His voice cracked.
Molly reached out and almost touched him. Then she pulled her hand back and stuck it in her pocket.
He teetered on the precipice of a place he did not want to go. He crossed his arms over his chest, felt his own substance, his weight, the thumping of his heart.
Jake looked at his daughter. “She paid, and the biggest price was her sister’s contempt. Esther was devastated.”
He couldn’t possibly tell Molly how distraught her mother had been. How sometimes he barely recognized the girl he fell in love with, the one who wanted to experience everything in life and paint every emotion. How much he missed that other Esther. How even her body had changed, become denser. Not just the weight of twenty years; this transformation was on the molecular level. He used to imagine that their cells were best buddies, wordlessly passing adoration back and forth like sodium and potassium through semi-permeable membranes. He blinked a few times, cleared his throat.
“We moved to Massachusetts to make a new life for ourselves. For you and Oliver. That’s all.”
“It’s not enough. Not near enough. You should have told me.”
His arms and legs felt impossibly heavy. He had carried this for so long.
Molly stood up, turned her back on the lake. “You don’t have anything else to say?”
“Just that I’m sorry. We probably should have told you, but we don’t talk about this. Some old things are better left in the dark.” He looked past Molly’s shoulder to the surface of the lake.
“Germs fester in the dark, don’t they? Microbes grow and multiply and make you sick. Isn’t that what you always tell us? Keeping this kind of secret is like lying. You should tell the truth. That’s what you always tell us to do.”
Maybe she was right. Maybe it was time to let go. Jake closed his eyes. The promise had been there for so long, interwoven in his neurons with the smell of sour milk, with the photograph Esther tried to hide from him in her desk. Maybe he was hiding behind his children.
“Maybe,” he whispered.
“You guys sent me here. You set me up.” Molly turned back toward the path. “Now it’s my turn. I’m taking it from here.”
Jake followed her. What did she mean by that?