17. To Tell the Truth
17
TO TELL THE TRUTH
RICHARD
Vivian and I had been building toward this moment all day, exchanging those silent glances that only occur when the stakes involve life, love, and illness. We’d steal whispered moments whenever we could away from Paris, finally reaching an agreement—not just about the surgery, but about something even larger and more frightening.
Telling Paris the truth.
As a grown man, there was nothing that scared me more. What if she wept over losing Adrien as her father? What if she pushed me away? What if she couldn’t understand, and her bright spirit began to fade?
But then again, what if the truth paved the way for something wonderful? Up close, I’d catch a spark of excitement in her eyes when I spun tales of adventures. When she said my name and giggled, her sweet little voice called to me.
I saw the truth in the way I watched her sleep, hoping she’d dream of faraway places I longed to show her someday. All this time, she had been a part of me—a piece of my heart—yet so far away.
And now, we were about to change everything.
Vivian stood by the window in Paris’ room, cradling a cup of decaf. Paris lay in bed with her favorite blanket—a pink one adorned with a pony, so worn it’d been lovingly mended by Vivian.
Paris’ legs jiggled under the covers as she tapped away on her tablet, working on assignments sent by her teacher at Holly Creek, trying to keep up with her class.
“Vivian,” I said softly as I approached her, “it’s almost dinner time. We should tell her.”
She set her mug down and nodded—half terrified, half ready.
Paris had been in good spirits, a little tired, but less pale. That small miracle alone fed hope into my heart that we’d all make it through this.
“ Ma chérie, Richard and I want to talk to you about something. Have you finished what your teacher sent?” Vivian began, glancing at her work. From where I stood, I noticed she had picked out all the letter B’s from the alphabet soup picture on the screen—B for Buchanan, as if fortune were smiling on me.
Paris shrugged, setting her tablet aside and sitting a little straighter, her fingers neatly interlaced in her lap like a miniature adult.
Vivian settled at one side of the bed, gently running her fingers through Paris’s hair in slow, soothing strokes. I stood beside her, unified in our purpose.
It was Vivian who started, “We told you that the doctors are going to help you feel better soon, didn’t we?”
Paris nodded solemnly. “To fix my kidney?”
“Yes,” Vivian confirmed. “And we also explained that someone very special would give you a new kidney to help your body heal. That special someone is Richard.”
Looking at me, Paris furrowed her brows as she asked, “You’ll make me all better?”
“That’s right,” I replied, my throat thick with emotion. “I have two kidneys, so I’m going to give you one.”
“Will it hurt me?” she asked quietly, her voice suddenly small.
Vivian reached out, brushing her thumb softly across Paris’s cheek. “You’ll be asleep, darling. The doctors will make sure you don’t feel anything, and when you wake up, you’ll be stronger.”
Pausing, she asked, “Like a superhero?”
“Even better,” I said. “You’ll have my kidney, plus you’ve already got my Buchanan blood. You’ll heal quickly.”
Her wide eyes locked on mine. “Does it hurt you to give me your kidney?”
I couldn’t hide the truth from her. “It might hurt a bit, but you’re worth it. I’m brave and strong—and so are you. We’re going to be just fine.”
She sat quietly for a moment, like a tiny philosopher in a pink bathrobe, weighing every word. Then she nodded. “Okay.”
She picked her tablet up again, but Vivian’s gentle hand paused her motion.
“We have one more thing to tell you, ma chérie, ” Vivian said, her voice trembling slightly as she smiled. I placed a supportive hand on her back.
“Paris, I’m giving you my kidney, but there’s something else: I’m your real father. I have been since the day you were born.” I paused, waiting for her response.
She blinked once, then again, her small hands falling silent on her lap. “But I have a daddy. He’s in Paris.” She could have twisted a knife into me, it hurt to hear.
“We thought Adrien was your father for a long time, but the doctors discovered he wasn’t,” Vivian explained, her fingers curling around the edge of the blanket.
For a moment, silence hung in the air as I waited for her reaction. “Is that why he doesn’t like to see me?”
Vivian made a soft, broken sound and covered her mouth, as if holding back tears. Paris must have picked up on how things were more than we realized.
I took over. “Adrien was simply busy all the time and lived far away from you, so it wasn’t easy for him to spend time with you. But now that the doctors confirmed that I’m your real father, You’re my daughter, Paris. I’m here and I’ll make time for you every day.”
Paris looked at me, head tilted in confusion. “You’re my real daddy?”
“Yes, I am, sweetheart,” I said, my voice pensive.
Then her face lit up with a bright, infectious grin that filled my heart and soul. “I’m glad it’s you. You’re so fun. I was already pretending you were my daddy in my head.”
I pressed a hand against my heart, leaned forward, and kissed the crown of her head, my lips lingering against her soft curls.
“Now you don’t have to pretend anymore,” I whispered.
“So I can call you my daddy?”
“Yes, sweetheart. May I have a hug?”
She climbed out of bed and wrapped her arms around me. “Mommy needs to hug us too.”
“Absolutely,” I pulled her in with us, and in that moment, I knew that no matter what lay ahead—surgery, pain, healing, or happiness—we had already won.
Our bond would always find a way. Father. Daughter. Mother.
I finally picked up the phone and called Miriam. When she answered, I launched right in. “Mother, I have news. Turns out I have a?—”
“Richard, darling, perfect timing. I have Patricia Mason on the other line. Hold please and I’ll have my assistant connect our calls together.”
“No, Mother don’t—” A frustrated sigh released from me hearing her click away. I pinched the bridge of my nose.
Rex heard it all as I had her on speaker, and he chortled sitting by the window. Thankfully I made this call from his and Chelsea’s room at the hotel, while the women hung back at the hospital, playing with Paris.
“Since when has Patricia become involved in this?” Rex arched an eyebrow at the mention of the matchmaker. Miriam had threatened us both with the idea of using her at one time or another over the past few years.
“I blame you for being the perfect son, getting married and having a million dollar wedding. My jealousy came out, okay? I told Miriam at your second nuptials in Holly Creek I’d be willing to try.” I flipped him off for good measure, and he continued to snicker about it. “Of course now I don’t need help. I have a daughter.”
“You have a what?!” Miriam shrieked into the phone. I gasped.
“Oh, shit,” Rex doubled over, snorting, laughing, covering his mouth with his hand. I threw the nearest thing at him—a pillow—lucky for him it was a soft object. He used it to muffle his guffaws.
“Uh, Mother… I didn’t realize you were still on the line. Are we patched in to Patricia?” I asked.
“Hello, Richard. I’m here. Having a daughter is a new development. Shall I change your profile status on our database to single father?” Patricia’s Northeastern elite accent elocution formed perfectly around each word, as she clued in quickly to the situation.
“Yes—er, no. I don’t actually need a profile anymore. You see, I’m falling for someone. So… Thanks for your services anyway, Patricia,” I exclaimed.
“Oh. Okay. Well, if your situation changes, reach out. Otherwise, Miriam, congratulations on both your sons finding love. I’ll close out the account and send you my bill. Ta ta for now.” She clicked off the line, leaving absolute dead space behind. I wouldn’t be surprised if Miriam had hung up.
“Mother? Are you there?” I asked.
“I’m trying to understand, Richard. I really am, and very calmly, too. Aren’t I, Mr. Astor?”
I pictured her quiet, unassuming husband sitting beside her with his nose in the Financial Times without a care as to what we were on about.
“I’m literally sitting here appreciating the view out our veranda at the Hamptons, letting the waves crashing on the shore soothe me into a false sense of calm. Oh, excuse me for a moment. The maid just brought me a fresh martini and I think I need to guzzle it to get through the rest of this conversation.”
I slapped a hand to my forehead at her dramatics. Rex practically died, trying to catch his breath from whatever humor he saw in this situation. At least one of us found it funny.
“I’m back. Now, let’s start over shall we? So… Hello, Richard, what’s new with you?”
“Uh, well, it’s an interesting story, Mother. You see, it turns out that I met Vivian seven years ago in Paris. We, uh, had a lovely night together that resulted in her pregnancy. And I just found out her daughter is mine. A paternity test proves it.”
“Mm-hmm. Vivian who, darling? Do I know her family?”
I stuttered. “Miriam… Vivian from Cupcake Cottage. You remember her? With a daughter? Cousin to Chelsea?” I spelled it out for her.
“The cake lady?” She asked, sounding horrified.
“Vivian. And her daughter’s name— our daughter’s name—is Paris, and she’s precious, beautiful, smart. And Vivian is very special to me, too. I’d like you to meet them. I mean, I know you met them during the wedding planning for Rex’s wedding, but things are different now.”
I paused waiting to gauge her reaction, but all I heard was a sniffle and the sound of tissue rubbing against the phone.
“Yes. You’re a grandmother. And she’s six and already has the Buchanan penchant for adventure and exploring the world. You’ll love her…” I hesitated. “And if you don’t, well, it doesn’t matter. Because I love her and she’s mine, and I’m going to spoil her for the rest of my life, and hopefully her mother, too, with or without you.”
“Obviously I’m shocked, but I’m also happy for you. I really am.” She cried. “Oh my goodness, did you hear that, Mr. Astor? We have our first grandchild. And it’s a girl! Oh, I cannot wait to take her to high tea at the Plaza. Treat her to a spa day with my other friends and their granddaughters. How soon can I meet the little one?”
I could tell Miriam was getting into it now, but… “Here’s the thing. She’s sick and needs a kidney transplant.”
Mother gasped, and I proceeded to fill in certain details from the week, leaving her sobbing by the end.
“Oh, darling, I hope you’re doing everything you can for her? Sparing no expense?”
“Of course I am. And I’m donating my kidney to her. The surgery is set for two days from now.”
“What? We’ll be in Albany tonight. Pack your bags Mr. Astor.” She quickly hung up.
Subdued now, Rex sauntered over and clapped me on the back. “That went better than I expected. Are you okay?”
“I will be. I just need Paris to survive this, and I hope her body won’t reject my kidney.”
“You’re my hero, man. I know everything will turn out fine. And by the way, you’re the one I should be jealous of. The first Buchanan grandchild for Miriam is quite an honor. Of course, I figure that let’s Chelsea and me off the hook for pressure from her to have a child. Judging by Paris’ cuteness factor, I’d say we have at least two years until Miriam pressures us again. High-five for more honeymooning for me!” He held up his hand with a cocky grin.
“Asshole.” I brought him in for a quick hug instead. “Thanks for being here for me.”
“Always, brother. Let’s head back to the hospital.”
I breathed deeper, releasing the worry over Miriam, and Paris accepting me as her father. Now the countdown to the operation started, and I still had a couple more things to work out with Vivian.