Chapter 3 - Thirty-Three Returned LettersEventually, Wesley asked the question Simone and I had both been avoiding.
"Are you our daddy?"
Simone drew a quick breath. "Wesley, sweetheart—"
"He said his children were sitting back here."
She looked toward me with obvious concern, and I understood that whatever answer I gave might remain with that child long after this flight was over. I lowered myself until our eyes were level.
"I think I'm someone who should have met you a very long time ago."
Wesley frowned. "That isn't yes."
"No, it isn't." I swallowed. "Yes, Wesley. I'm your father."
He carefully studied my face. "Why didn't you live with us?"
"Because some adults made a very serious mistake."
"Did you make one?"
I glanced at Simone. "I made more than one."
He thought about my answer before sliding the red crayon toward me. "You can borrow this."
I turned toward the window for a moment until I could gather myself again.
My phone continued filling with messages about Ridgemont. The board needed confirmation. Solstice Care was threatening to complete an agreement first. Desmond wrote that I had spent my entire career working toward this opportunity and whatever had happened aboard the flight could be addressed after midnight.
The message sounded remarkably like my father.
I sent a note to Priscilla Wren, our general counsel, asking her to retrieve visitor records and archived communications containing Simone's name. I also asked her to locate Bertram Locke without informing my father.
Simone watched as I put the phone aside. "Don't treat this like another acquisition."
"I'm trying to understand who took three years away from us."
"You can't solve everything by controlling it."
"I know."
"Do you? Because you still sound like the person I left."
"The person you left loved you."
Pain crossed her expression. "The person I left missed our engagement dinner because of a board meeting. He canceled our only vacation and disappeared for almost three weeks without telling me why. You always had an explanation, Julian, but I was still the one sitting alone."
"My father was hospitalized during that trip."
"You never told me." She slowly shook her head. "The letters explain why you didn't know about Wesley and Josephine. They don't erase everything that happened before them. Someone may have deliberately kept us apart, but it worked because distance already existed between us."
The words hurt because they were true.
"I was afraid I would become my father."
Her expression softened slightly. "And you became so focused on being different from him that you still allowed him to shape your life."
Before I could respond, Josephine coughed. Simone immediately touched her forehead, then removed a small oxygen monitor from her bag and gently placed it over Josephine's finger. The reading began changing.
Simone softly called Josephine's name as the little girl became unusually drowsy.
I stood and alerted the flight crew. A pediatric nurse came forward from several rows away, followed by a retired physician. The crew provided supplemental oxygen while Simone kept Josephine close. Wesley grabbed my hand tightly.
"Is Josephine going away?"
The worry in his voice transported me back to the hospital corridor from my childhood.
I crouched beside him. "No, buddy. She's staying right here with us."
I couldn't guarantee what I didn't know, but I understood that he needed calm reassurance more than he needed to see my uncertainty.
After several tense minutes, Josephine's color improved and the monitor reading stabilized. The physician believed congestion, cabin pressure, and her early respiratory history had contributed to the episode. He recommended that she be evaluated after landing.
Simone thanked him. I looked directly at her. "We're taking her to the hospital."
"Your meeting—"
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"I have a daughter."
This time, Simone didn't argue.
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