Chapter 46
46
JONATHAN
G eoff is fuzzy on the screen as the satellite connection struggles to process his video. I can’t believe this is how the children have to meet with their therapists.
He’s sitting in what must be his home office in New York. Sunlight is streaming in through a window behind him and he’s partially silhouetted. It’s probably only around 2pm there. “How’s the…” I don’t catch the end of the question as the connection cuts and then re-establishes itself. “Shit… other number?”
I sigh. I’m used to this routine by now. The beeper goes off with another phone number for me to try instead that might have a better connection, even though I’m pretty sure the issue is my side as I’m the one in the middle of nowhere. Sometimes Geoff meets with me from his office, sometimes he uses an app on his mobile that somehow links with the satellite network, and he chats to me while he’s walking around—New York is apparently starting to open up again.
“No, let me cut the video my side,” I say, before he disconnects. I’m anxious to get back down to Adam and am not in the mood to fight with technology. I wish that the pager would let him send actual messages so we didn’t have to talk so often, but Geoff seems to be a big believer in face-to-face. At least he hasn’t been unpleasant. I was worried the first few times we had to speak, but he treats me like any other member of the foundation.
On the screen his face resolves into standard definition, which is good enough for our purposes. “What can I help you with?”
“More pics of the kids.” Now I can see his expression, it’s clear that he’s busy working on something on the screen. His gaze has that far-off quality, as if he’s only half focused on me.
“Something specific in mind?” I fight down my annoyance.
“Yeah, something cute. It’s for a social media ad.”
“An ad?”
“Yes, Belle, an ad.” His gaze comes to focus near mine briefly, although I know it’s a trick of the camera and he can’t see me anymore. “Figured now would be a good time to grab some shots, while they’re dressed up. There are some nice ones in the pack you sent yesterday, but nothing quite adorable enough. I’m thinking chocolate. Smiles. Some interaction between them. Maybe some with Beast if you can get him to agree to it.”
“I’m sorry, stop.”
He looks at me with an arched eyebrow. “Did you get that? Did I break up?”
“No, I got that. You said you’d be running social media ads with photos of the children.”
“Yeah, to promote the auction. Don’t worry, I cleared it with Beast.”
I’m not sure whether I believe that, but even if I did, “That isn’t… Geoff I’m certain that isn’t allowed with fosters.”
For a second I think Geoff has frozen. But no, he was just staring at me. Then he laughs, low and dark. “You mean he still hasn’t told you?”
My stomach drops, like I’ve missed a step. “Told me what?”
He shakes his head. “You have to be the only adult on that godforsaken estate who doesn’t know.”
“What don’t I know?”
Geoff levels a look at me, as if he’s considering his next step, and it takes a beat for him to decide to answer. “The only person who has any authority to decide how the kids’ pictures are used is The Beast.”
The air is suddenly very thin. There’s only one reason that would be the case. Still, I need confirmation. “Why?”
“Is it true?”
Adam is standing in the garden where I left him, admiring a bush of rhododendrons. He looks up sharply at my tone, but I can no more control that than control the frantic beating of my heart. It feels like the bottom has dropped out of my world.
“Jonathan, what?—”
“Is it true? Did you adopt the children?”
The confusion melts from Adam’s face and he straightens to his full height, expression drawn. Only then do I accept it.
I dash at my eyes. Adam reaches for me but I pull away. “You’ve been lying to them. You’ve been lying to me. What kind of— what kind of heartless—” I almost say beast but bite my tongue, drawing a deep breath instead, trying to get myself under control. “You’ve made those children live with uncertainty, with fear, with the dread that they have to return to the system. You’ve made them go through that. Why? So they look pitiful in the headlines? So you could get your rich sponsors to feel sorry for them?” I sink to my haunches in the dew-damp grass. “I feel sick.”
“I was going to tell you,” Adam says.
“I don’t fucking care. I don’t care that you kept me in the dark.” Which is a lie. Of course I do. I force myself to look up at him. His eyes are filled with remorse and I swallow hard. “I thought… I can’t believe I thought… I thought I meant something to you. I feel like such a fool.”
“Jonathan.” He sinks down beside me. “You do. You mean everything to me.”
“No! You don’t get to say that.” I bury my head in my hands. “You don’t get to say that when you’ve made me live with this. You have no idea how painful it’s been to fall in love with them knowing I’d have to say goodbye, knowing that I’d have to send them back— back to that. God, how could you do this?”
“I… I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” There’s pure venom in my words and I see Adam startle at it, as if I’m the six-foot-six giant.
“It was never the plan. I was going to foster them. Then their visas were denied and I looked at everything and thought, why not?”
“Why not! You— you just decided to adopt four children on a whim?”
“It wasn’t a whim.” For the first time, his volume rises. “I didn’t want to send them back into a system I knew was broken!” He drops his voice again. “I— I— know what they’ve been through. I didn’t want to give them back.”
“So you kept it from them?”
“I had to! This project is about promoting foster care . How would it look if it turned out I wasn’t even fostering?”
“It doesn’t matter how it looks!”
“Yes, it does.” He reaches out to touch my shoulder, but I wrench away. “Belle, it does. It was for the good of the whole foundation, for the good of the work we’re doing. I was going to tell them, after this campaign, after the auction. Of course I was going to tell them. But if I told them before, if they let it slip, it could ruin everything.”
“And that’s why you kept it from me, I suppose? Because you couldn’t trust me not to ruin everything ?”
His features are pure distress. “No, Jonathan. I didn’t tell you because I couldn’t figure out how. I meant to tell you tonight.”
I bark a hollow laugh. “Right.”
“Please believe that the last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt you.”
“Well, that’s a shame.” I get to my feet and pull my suit trousers straight. “That’s a great shame because I’m pretty fucking hurt.” I scrape a hand through my hair. “I’m sorry, I need to be alone right now. Tell the children… make up something, I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”
I head inside. I don’t look back.
I lie in the dark for hours, staring at the canopy above my bed. I don’t even remove the suit. My stomach churns and my chest clenches as memories come unbidden.
Ben’s little voice. “Why can’t we stay?”
Mal and his mementos.
And Adam. Every time he told me without telling me. He told me the very first time we fought, when he was so adamant about how to raise them. He told me after he found Mal at Lloyd’s piano and he accidentally let the word ‘my’ slip, and before the Monopoly game when he said it and didn’t correct himself. He told me in his greenhouse, when he introduced his ‘other’ children. He told me in his office, when he used the word father. He told me when he confessed his fears in the firelight the night of that big storm. He has told me every way except in the way that mattered.
For months we’ve been playing house, playing at being parents. Only, for him it was real. It was real and he didn’t tell any of us. Not even me.
No.
You have to be the only adult on that godforsaken estate who doesn’t know.
Meredith knew. Ray knew. Angus and Lily-Iris must also have known. Geoff knew. It was only me who was left in the dark. Not a co-parent. A fool.
What am I to him? What can I possibly mean to him if he could trust everyone with this except me?
The pager beeps again. Not now. I blot at my eyes with my sleeve and check. It’s a phone number. The very last thing I want right now is to watch Geoff’s face as he’s strutting around New York. What could he possibly want? To gloat?
I roll over onto my stomach. Another beep. Same number. He’s really adamant.
I pull myself to my feet and go to find out what he wants.
In the dark control room, I make the call on autopilot, choosing to keep it voice only.If Geoff wants to gloat, I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing my puffy face.
“Jonathan?”
It’s not Geoff’s voice that answers. It’s Zane.