Michael Baden - Remains Silent

“We didn’t care about the clubfoot, and even if we did, we didn’t have the money to fix it,” Joseph said, continuing the narrative seamlessly, as though the two had rehearsed it. “We knew the boy’d have some problems, but is there a human being in the world who doesn’t?”

Dora looked at Jake, almost daring him to disagree. “It made us cherish him all the more. He got teased at school something awful- made him a loner, I think- leastways he didn’t have many friends when he was little and no girlfriends in high school, but he was always so good-natured, so uncomplaining, that we didn’t really worry about him.”

It was Joseph’s turn. “It was his brains saved him. Wally could read by the time he was five, and I don’t think he’s stopped reading since. But he was at loose ends when he finished Columbia Medical School. I think he wanted to get even farther away from people, so he went out to Santa Fe and worked there with kids less fortunate than he.”

With children more handicapped than he was.

“Then he got enough gumption to come back to New York City,” Dora said. “Think how brave that was. Not only to come back but to practice medicine in a city environment, surrounded by other health-care professionals.”

Brave indeed. “Did you ever locate his birth parents?”

“My goodness, yes!” Dora exclaimed, as though the question surprised her. “His birth father, that is. The mother died in childbirth.”

Jake held his breath. “What was his name?”

“Why, Peter Harrigan. Didn’t Dr. Harrigan tell you Wally was adopted?”

“He did, only he didn’t tell me he was the father.”

“Strange,” Joseph said. “Pete was right fond of the boy. Maybe he was afraid you’d tell Wally.”

Pete? “Then you knew Dr. Harrigan personally?”

“Of course! He was Wally’s teacher when Wally came to New York. He contacted us then but made us promise not to tell Wally who he was until he had passed his class. Pete had married and had a daughter. He didn’t want his new family to know about his past life, or Wally to know he was his father’s pupil. He’s the one who told us about Wally’s birth mother. He loved her, he said, and, as I say, she died in childbirth before they could be married. He and Wally got along real well. They didn’t see each other all that often, but when Pete came, he and Wally’d have these long talks about medicine and about life. And of course he got him the job with you. Said you were his best friend.”

I was. We had those same talks. Pete must have found the Winnicks the same way I did. And his lie was a gentle one. Jake felt a catch in his throat. The emotion he had held in abeyance since his arrival threatened to overflow, and he asked his hosts to direct him to the bathroom, where he washed his face and stood with his hands on the sink until he had mastered his feelings. Ewing kept his promise; there’s humanity even in monsters. And Pete- Pete was a good man. At least he tried to make up for his sins in the only way he could- through Wally. He’s served his penance. I can love him again, even if I can’t forgive him for the experiments at Turner.

He returned to the dining area. Dora had cleared the dishes; Joseph had stepped outside for a cigarette but reentered when he saw Jake.

“I’m afraid I’ve terrible news,” he told them gently. “Pete’s dead.”

“No!” Dora covered her mouth with her apron. “When? And why didn’t Wally tell us?”

“Two weeks ago. Pete had cancer, and maybe Wally didn’t want to upset you.”

“Did Dr. Harrigan suffer?” Joseph asked.

“Only at the end. I saw him just before he died. We talked about Wally.”

“God rest his soul,” Dora whispered. “Thank you for telling us.”

Jake shook Joseph’s hand and kissed Dora. “And thank you,” he said as he left, “for being such good parents.”

It was after two. Jake called Manny. Kenneth picked up and told him the Martin hearing was lasting longer than expected and he wasn’t sure what time she’d get back. “But she’s definitely coming in. You wouldn’t believe the pileup of papers.”

“As a matter of fact, I would,” Jake said, thinking with horror about his own desk and what awaited him when Pederson gave him clearance to return.

Should I tell Elizabeth about the child? Pete never told her. Why should I play messenger? He sat in his car without starting the motor. Because she could be hurt by this professionally, if it’s revealed publically and she’s in the dark. Pete would have wanted me to take care of her. She’s Wally’s half sister, but she’s Pete’s daughter, first. He called her office. She hadn’t come in today, a woman with the voice of a drill sergeant told him. In fact, she hadn’t been in all week. Ever since her husband had been hurt in an automobile accident.

Good. It’ll be easier to talk to her at home.

The Markis house, fronted by a circular driveway cut through immaculate grass, looked as much like feudal England as twenty-first-century New Jersey. Jake had never been here before; Elizabeth had been living far more modestly when he dated her. Now he registered only that it seemed far too grand to be inhabited by anyone he knew except the mayor, an impression verified by a marble foyer, circular stairs leading to the heavens, and a butler in uniform who asked him if he was expected.

“No,” said Jake, who had purposely not heralded his arrival, fearing she would not let him come, “but this is an emergency. I’m Jacob Rosen, a friend of her late father’s and medical examiner for New York City.”

This last seemed to work, for the butler gave a little bow and went upstairs. Soon Elizabeth appeared, dressed in a simple black sheath. Manny would know the designer. “Jake,” she said, her tone frosty. “This is a surprise.”

“I’m sorry to intrude. Truly. But I’ve found out things about your father you ought to know.”

“About his death? I told you I’m not-”

“About his life. His early life.”

She sighed. “I can’t spare much time. Daniel is hurt, you know.”

“Your office told me. An automobile accident?”

“Yes. A truck exploded on the Jersey Turnpike. He got caught in the blast. A broken rib, cuts and bruises- he can hardly walk- and the noise temporarily deafened him. He still can’t hear.”

“I’m so sorry. Do you want me to take a look at him?”

She glanced at him scornfully. “We have our own doctor. Why don’t we go into the library? It’s comfortable there.”

He followed her through heavy oak doors into a room that seemed to Jake larger than the reading rooms of most New York branch libraries, where they sat facing each other in two identical wing chairs.

“Did your father say anything to you when you visited him before he died?” Jake asked. “Anything he hadn’t told you before?”

She hesitated. “No. Why?”

“Because when I saw him I thought he wanted to confess to me.”

“Confess what?”

“I didn’t know. It’s what prompted my question to you.”

“He only told me he was dying of cancer.”

I’ll bet that’s not all.

Her eyes were steely, suspicious. “Yes. Mom told us. Her name was Isabella. She was a nurse at a hospital where he worked in upstate New York.”

“Turner.”

“That’s right. Died of pneumonia, Dad said.”

“Did you know Pete and Isabella had a child?”

Her head snapped back. “A child?”

“Yes, a boy. Congratulations. You have a brother- a halfbrother.”

Her expression grew fearful. I wonder why. “The boy’s alive?”

“The man’s alive, very much so.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. He works for me. Would you like to meet him?”