Chapter 6
I didn't hear Grace walk into my little hiding place, but I wasn't surprised she came. She had changed clothes since I saw her at the ballpark a couple hours earlier. Gone was the pretty dress that swirled around her legs and her curly hair done up with ribbons. She'd put on a pair of petal pushers and one of my old t-shirts, her hair pulled back off her face into a ponytail. Finally she looked like the Grace I knew, not the pretty girl who had all the guys on the baseball team asking me questions about her.
"Hey," I replied, not bothering to look over at her. It wasn't like I was mad at her, or anything. It was just that I'd been having a tough week and I really needed a best friend, but she'd been too busy with Thomas. She'd tried to talk to me a few times, sure, but she hadn't been very persistent. Usually, if I was reluctant to talk she would hound me until I gave in. She didn't even put up a fight this time. She had to know that my conversation with that old woman was bothering me, but she didn't have time to waste on me...especially when Thomas was around. Too bad I actually liked the guy, or I could have really hated him.
Grace didn't take offense to my less than warm welcome, which was rather comforting. Instead she quietly walked over and lay down next to me. "You had a really good game today," she said after a few minutes silence. "That throw you made to second in the sixth inning was perfect."
I was surprised that she had been paying attention to the game. Every time I saw her she was surrounded by people, laughing and chatting away. But I wasn't going to be won over that easily, so I remained silent.
"How's your leg?" she finally asked, looking over at me.
"Fine," I replied grudgingly. Actually it hurt like a son of a bitch, but I wasn't about to admit it.
I heard her sigh lightly as she turned to watch the clouds float by. This was when she'd leave, I knew. All week, as long as I remained silent, she'd give up and go find Thomas. I didn't need her, I told myself. I didn't.
"Thomas pitched a good game today," I said suddenly. Okay, maybe I did need her. I had missed her all week. Maybe I had pushed her away, but that didn't mean I didn't want her around. I just wanted the old Grace who would bug and pester me until I finally opened up and talked about what was bothering me...about that old woman...and that I suspected that she might me right. I could barely admit it to myself, but I knew Grace would make me. She always made me face reality. I'd come to expect that from her, and she'd let me down this week. Her social life was more important than me and my stupid worries. But if talking about Thomas kept her there for a bit longer, then I was willing to talk about him. I was lonely.
I felt her eyes on me, but I refused to look. "Yes, he did," she agreed. "But it was your defense at the plate that won the game."
That startled me. I looked over at her, trying to mask me shock. I had assumed she was totally focused on Thomas whenever she was watching the game. "Thanks," I said, a small grin crossing my face briefly. It felt good to be noticed.
Grace smiled her motherly smile. The one that let me know that she knew exactly what I was thinking and was amused by it. "I may like Thomas," she said matter-of-factly, "but you are still my best friend." She rolled over onto her side and looked down at me. "Right?" she asked, poking me in the chest.
I grinned up at her. "Yeah," I agreed, my voice cracking. I blushed, but Grace didn't comment. I almost felt like crying, I was so glad that she still thought of me as her best friend.
Grace lay back down and we watched the clouds in companionable silence. It was almost like nothing had happened. As if those last few weeks were only a bad dream.
"I'm sorry you can't take the plane up yet," Grace said, breaking the peaceful silence with a cold dash of reality.
"You heard, huh?" I asked, frowning.
"I was on the porch last night when you were talking with your mom," she told me.
I was sorry she had heard that. Not one of my best moments. I kind of lost it. I knew that what I had said, about Uncle Danny, had hurt my mom. I wanted to take it back as soon as I said it, mainly because I didn't want to see that look on her face...the look that told me I might be right.
"I thought...he...dad...would have calmed down by now. I don't know," I sighed. "Flying is the one thing I love to do...and he won't let me. We're always fighting. I don't know when I'll get to fly again." I could feel my throat tightening with the threat of tears. I had been holding this in for so long. I was frustrated and mad...and until now I had no one to talk to about it. I had talked to Uncle Danny in the beginning, but I just couldn't talk to him now, not after the old woman. Grace was my only other option, and she hadn't been interested...until now.
Grace looked over at me. "It was a pretty stupid stunt you pulled. You scared us to death."
I could only grimace. "I know." That's all I'd heard for weeks...that it was a stupid stunt, that I was lucky, etc, etc, until I wanted to scream. How many times did I have to apologize?
"Uncle Rafe is just worried about you - he doesn't want you to get hurt," she pointed out, unnecessarily.
"I know!" I replied in frustration. The last thing I needed then was one of her holier than thou lectures. "That's what mom said...and Uncle Danny...and Aunt Kate. But I'm a good pilot," I said hotly. "They know that. I know my limitations."
"Do you?" Grace asked softly.
Okay, I did not want this snooty Grace here. I wanted Grace - my best friend, not Grace the all knowing. "Jesus, you sound just like him," I said, sitting up abruptly. "Yes, I do. Okay? I do know my limitations. I'm not stupid!" I ran my hand through my hair in frustration. Suddenly it was all too much; being grounded, the old woman, Grace...I just didn't know what was happening in my life anymore.
"What am I going to do?" I asked, my voice dropping to a plaintive whisper. I knew I was leaving myself wide open for Grace to act all high and mighty and explain everything to me like I was a child...but I almost wanted that. I wanted someone to tell me that everything was okay, that my life would be normal soon.
Grace sat up. "About what?" she asked quietly.
I shrugged helplessly. "You know, I keep hearing that old woman accuse me of lying. And then dad and I fight...and I can't help...wondering...if...."
"She's right?" Grace finished, moving so that she was facing me.
I felt my throat tighten spasmodically. "Yeah," I finally managed to answer. I looked up into her eyes, surprised to see how concerned she was.
She watched me intently for a few moments, seeming to size me up. I tried not to flinch as she stared, the tears stinging the backs of my eyes. I wanted to cry like a baby, for some reason - if only to get rid of the tension that had been building up inside of me for the past week. Sighing softly, she seemed to make her decision. Reaching into her pocket she pulled out a small piece of paper.
"I haven't been able to stop thinking of that old woman either," she said. "Here." She held out the paper for me to take. "I found this and I think you should see it."
I took it, but couldn't bring myself to look at it. "What is it?" I asked suspiciously, almost afraid to look at it.
"It's a picture," she stated, her eyes not leaving mine.
"I can see that," I said wryly, keeping up a brave front as I glanced down at the old black and white photo. "What am I supposed to be seeing here?"
"It's a picture of Daddy and Uncle Rafe when they were about your age," she stated.
I steeled myself and looked again, seeing them standing in front of the old red bi plane, Grandpa Jake smiling next them, I shrugged. "Yeah, okay, it's them. Big deal." I tried to act cool, but my stomach had suddenly tied itself into knots. I didn't want to look any more, so I tried to hand it back to her. She didn't take it. Instead she handed me another picture. This one I recognized immediately. It was my school picture taken earlier that year. "It's a picture of me. So what?"
I tried to hand them back to her again, my hand trembling slightly. There was a rushing sound in my ears and my heart was beating faster. I didn't want to look, I couldn't. I had seen enough and I wasn't ready. I thought I was, but I wasn't. I wanted more than anything to run away at that moment, but I couldn't, I was glued to that spot.
"Danny look at them!" Grace urged me. Taking them from me she laid one over the other and held them in front of me. "Look!" she demanded.
And so I did. She had overlaid my school picture so that Dad and Grandpa Jake were blocked out. Staring up at me from those photos were two...young boys who looked eerily similar, me and Uncle Danny. For a moment I thought I was going to be sick. I pursed my lips together and stared off into the trees. All week I had been unconsciously comparing myself to Uncle Danny and Matty. Depending on my mood I was either convinced that the old woman was crazy or that she was telling the truth. Now Grace held the proof and there was no arguing it.
"So, the old lady was right," I said hoarsely, blinking back tears.
Grace nodded. "It looks that way."
I continued to stare off into the trees, trying to get my emotions under control. My heart was pounding so loudly I was surprised that Grace didn't hear it. "So they've been lying to me my whole life," I said bitterly.
"I don't think they were lying...." Grace began.
"Then what the hell do you call it?" I asked harshly, launching myself off the ground. I began to pace up and down the small clearing, trying to find some way to get my mind to accept this new truth. "The man I call Dad isn't really my dad...and the man I call Uncle...." I stopped, shaking my head; pressing my fingers into my eyes I tried to stop myself from crying. This was a nightmare.
"I just meant I don't think they meant to keep this from you forever," Grace said, watching me from the ground as I began pacing again. I snorted in response. "Really," she continued. "They haven't really lied about anything...they've just omitted certain details and we assumed..."
I stopped and stared at her incredulously. Was she crazy? "Yeah, they just 'omitted' who my father really was," I snapped. "That's a pretty big lie."
"It was all there," Grace persisted, defending them. "We just didn't do the math...we didn't figure it out until now. If they were really not going to tell you then they would have lied about the rest of the stuff."
I stared down at her with a bewildered expression on my face. What was she talking about? What didn't they lie about? And what the hell did math have to do with anything?
"They lied to me. How was I supposed to know who my father was...I trusted them...and they..." I couldn't finish. As if I had been punched in the gut, I suddenly felt the force of my parent's betrayal. I felt like I was going to be sick again.
"Bear with me," Grace said, holding up her hand for my attention. "I did a little research this week...asked a few questions. How much do you know about how your mom and dad met? And when they dated during the war?"
Research? She did research? That surprised me.
"Which dad?" I asked derisively, but Grace continued to stare at me. "I don't know!" I finally snapped. "What has that got to do with this?" I knew a lot about the attack on Pearl and the Doolittle raid. Dad...Rafe...and Uncle...Danny had told me about it. Every boy goes through his war phase, but I didn't know anything about when my...mom and Rafe dated.
"Everything, Danny. It has everything to do with it," she declared, getting up and coming to stand by me. "What do you know?"
"I don't know!" I snapped again. I didn't have time for this. My world was falling apart and Grace was talking about math and my parent's love life.
"Think," she snapped back. "Tell me what you know."
I sighed in frustration. "They all met during flight physicals...mom was a nurse. Da...Rafe flunked the eye exam, but she felt sorry for him and passed him."
"When?" Grace asked. "Do you know the date?"
"No," I replied, shaking my head. I had no idea where she was going with all this, but it seemed important to her. "Sometime before he went to England, I'd guess," I said sarcastically.
"What else do you know?" she prodded.
I sighed. She just wasn't going to give up. "Mom was transferred to Hawaii...and so was...Unc...your dad. Dad...Rafe...was shot down and had to escape from Occupied France. He and your dad were the only two pilots to get into the air during the Japanese attack, then they volunteered for the raid on Tokyo...where your dad got shot...and Rafe came home...." I shrugged, my confusion beginning to overwhelm me. I didn't know what to call anyone anymore.
"And then you were born..." she said softly.
I was loosing my patience. "Yeah, so? Look, Grace, where are you going with this, because I have more things on my mind than..."
"Shut up and listen to me," she interrupted, her voice no nonsense. "I knew you'd be upset when you saw those pictures...the resemblance is obvious, so I did some research...so you'd have all the facts and wouldn't go flying off at the handle." I looked at her impatiently, crossing my arms across my chest. She knew that I wasn't the type to do that. "Okay," she admitted. "I didn't think you'd go crazy when you saw, but I knew you'd be hurt and confused.... and I wanted to try to get as much of the story as possible...without having it censored, or abridged." She looked up at me, her eyes bright with compassion.
"What did you do?" I finally asked.
She smiled slightly. "I pretended that I had to write a family history paper based on the war. And then I asked Daddy and Uncle Rafe and Aunt Evelyn all kinds of questions. I didn't know if the old woman was right or not, but once I saw that picture...I had a feeling she was...and I wanted to find out the truth. I knew you wouldn't go looking for it...at least not yet...and I didn't want you to be miserable wondering if she was right or not."
"Oh, yes, it's much better now," I scoffed.
She looked up at me, easily seeing through my bravado. "Wouldn't you rather know the truth and deal with it...then be wondering for weeks on end...never quite sure?" she asked quietly.
Closing my eyes, I nodded. "I'd rather know," I agreed softly. "It's just hard..." Opening up my eyes, I looked at her, seeing the concern in her eyes. "Now tell me how my parents didn't lie to me."
"I didn't mean they didn't lie," she hedged, "I just meant that they didn't mean to lie to you forever. They just omitted certain...things. But I think that they would have told you eventually, or else they would have lied about everything else, which they didn't...so it wasn't really a real lie...it's was a lie of omission...and we could have figured it out but we just never did the math."
There she went with the math again. "Grace, you are not making a lick of sense. A lie is a lie," I told her. "And they lied to me...my whole life...you can't deny that."
"I just...." she began, but then stopped. Shaking her head she made me sit down again. "I'm just saying that things got really complicated and maybe one thing lead to another...and they probably always meant to tell you, but the time just never seemed right." I opened my mouth to say something, but Grace held up her hand. "Just listen to what I have to say, okay?"
"Okay," I agreed.
She took a moment to compose herself, and then she finally began. "Okay, here's the basics of what I learned. Daddy and Uncle Rafe met Aunt Evelyn in December 1940. Uncle Rafe joined the Eagle Squadron in January 1941 and Daddy and Aunt Evelyn were transferred to Pearl Harbor separately early that spring. Uncle Rafe was shot down in June and presumed dead. He didn't show up until the night before the attack on Pearl Harbor...did you know that?" she asked, an excited gleam in her eyes.
I shrugged. "Yeah, I knew it."
"You did?" she asked, looking disappointed. "Then you really could have figured it out for yourself."
"What?" I couldn't help asking. "How could I have known Rafe wasn't my father?"
"Uncle Rafe came to Pearl Harbor on December 6th...until then Daddy and Aunt Evelyn thought he was dead. And you were born in July 1942..." she trailed off looking at me expectantly.
I had no idea what she was getting at. "What is your point Grace?" I asked, my frustration rising. "We know all this. It's old news."
"Yes it is," Grace agreed, nodding her head. "We've heard it before. When I talked to them...they each told me basically the same thing...the same dates...everything."
"So?" I asked.
Grace rolled her eyes. "So, they never planned to lie to you forever...I'm sure they were going to tell you."
I could only stare at her blankly. Normally Grace made sense, but right then my life was being turned upside down and she was babbling about dates and math. I still had no idea what she meant.
"Don't you get it?" Grace asked impatiently. "You were born July 30, 1942 and Uncle Rafe didn't get back until December 6th! He couldn't have been your father, unless you were born extremely premature...which you weren't. You were seven pounds, I checked. That's not even close to premature."
"How can you be so sure?" I asked. I was beginning to see where she was going with this, but no matter what, the bottom line was that they had lied to me and I wanted to know why.
"How many brothers do I have?" Grace huffed. "Honestly, don't you pay attention in health class? It takes nine months for a baby to be born - that's forty weeks. If you count back from your birthday it means that you were conceived sometime in late October or early November. A month before Uncle Rafe showed up.
I thought about it. The picture seemed proof enough, but this was hard evidence. It made sense. "Okay, so Dad...Rafe...can't be my father and your dad is," I stated evenly.
"Probably," Grace agreed.
The anger and indignation was still inside me, upset over the fact that I had been lied to for so long, but now something else was beginning to overshadow my initial reaction. They had lied to me...outright, or by omission, it didn't matter to me, but now I began to wonder why. Why hadn't they told me? What had happened to make my mom go from one man to the other?
I looked up at Grace; the tears suddenly back in my eyes. "Why?" I asked plaintively, hating myself for sounding so needy. "What happened...why did they let me believe...?" I was hoping that Grace had the answers, because I sure didn't.
Grace shook her head sadly. "I don't really know. That's the one question I couldn't ask them," she said. She paused for a moment, letting me collect myself. "They thought Daddy died in China," she pointed out.
"So, Rafe comes home and marries his best friend's girl because she's pregnant?" I asked bitterly. I had never thought much about how my parents met, or when they dated. It never mattered to me before. But it did now. Who dated who first, I wondered.
"Maybe," Grace agreed, sadly. "Being an unwed mother...it's not a good thing...and Daddy and Uncle Rafe are like brothers..." she pointed out.
"So what about when Unc...he came home?" I asked, running my hand through my hair. There was a sick feeling in my stomach. "He and your mom were already engaged." How had this happened, I couldn't help wondering? How could I be fathered by one man, yet raised by another, even though my real father was literally next-door?
"Mom was pregnant with Sam," Grace said quietly.
I couldn't stop myself from flinching. "Yeah, okay." I took a deep breath to control my pounding heart and force my stomach back down from my throat. "So...he...wakes up in China and forgets all about my mom and me? Is that it? Didn't he care about us at all?"
"That doesn't sound like Daddy," Grace defended, and I had to admit that a part of me agreed with her, but I just didn't understand how he could be my father and yet not even try to claim me. "He might not have known about...you."
I thought about that for a moment. The idea that he might not have known about me...it was kind of comforting, in an odd way. Then it wasn't like he abandoned me, though it still didn't explain why he let me spend my whole life calling him uncle. "Why wouldn't he have known?" I asked. As much as I liked the idea, I wasn't at all sure that it was realistic. "They didn't ship out until January or February. That's two and a half, three months." I saw the look sadness in her eyes and I turned away, not wanting her to see the tears in mine. "Am I a mistake?" I whispered, finally voicing my most feared thought. "Am I...?"
"Danny stop!" Grace interrupted, rising from the ground to stand beside me. I could feel her hand, cold against the warm skin of my arm. "We don't know what happened back then. There was a war and..."
"And my mom was sleeping with one guy and then she marries another," Danny said bitterly. "I could understand that, almost, since they thought he was dead...but what about when he came home?"
"Uncle Rafe and Aunt Evelyn were already married by then...." Grace said rationally.
"Yeah, and my...father...had a girlfriend and a baby on the way." I could feel my chest beginning to heave as I fought for breath, my anger rising again. Why had they kept me in the dark? Didn't I have a right to know who my father really was? Why had they lied to me for so long? I glared over at Grace. "You've known he wasn't your father your whole life! But no one tells me. He lives right next door, on the same goddamn farm, and everyone let's me go on believing...." The anger suddenly left me and I hung my head. "Didn't he want me?" I couldn't help whispering, feeling a lone tear slide down my face.
Grace pulled me towards her, her arms wrapping around my waist. She was so tiny pressed up against me, her head not even reaching my shoulder, but she felt so very strong. I remained as still as possible, but her grip tightened and I finally gave in. With a small sob I wrapped my arms around her, burying my head in her hair as I let my tears fall.
"Of course he wanted you," Grace reassured me, her hands stroking up and down my back. "Daddy loves you...just like he loves me and Sam and Josh and Matty and Drew and Eva. He's always been there for you."
"Then why didn't I know?" I sniffed, my voice cracking again.
Through my own despair, I began to feel the wetness on my shirtfront and realized that Grace was crying too. "I don't know, Danny," she finally admitted. "I don't know. All we can do is ask."
I hugged her tightly for a moment more before stepping away, my resolve suddenly strong. "Yeah, okay," I agreed, wiping my eyes. "Let's go." Without looking at her I strode quickly out of the clearing and up the path towards home.
"Where are you going?" she called after me.
"To ask some questions," I replied over my shoulder, my strides lengthening in my hurry to get some answers.
"Who are you going to ask?" Grace asked me when she finally managed to catch up.
"My father," I replied over my shoulder, not bothering to slow my steps to accommodate her shorter legs, as I usually would have done.
Grace pointed to the fields behind us. "I think Uncle Rafe's working over in the...."
"Not him," I interrupted shortly. "My real father." I was determined to find out the truth. I wanted to know why I hadn't been told who my real father was. I wanted to know why he didn't want me.
"Oh, okay," Grace said, a bit shocked by my sudden decision. I was usually the one to think things over before diving in, but I wanted answers now. I didn't want to wait. "Wouldn't you rather talk to your mom first?" she asked hesitantly.
"No, mom would just make me wait for da...Rafe," I told her. "I want to know now."
It didn't take us long to reach the barn at the pace I was going. Before I had a chance to really think about what I wanted to say, I was standing in the gloomy darkness. I could hear muffled words and the clanking of tools as my...father...worked on the old plane. Now that I was here, I didn't know what to do.
My momentum carried me all the way into the barn next to the plane, Grace panting slightly beside me. I could feel her concerned gaze on me as she waited for me to say something. I couldn't. I could only stare at the plane, my father's legs visible on the other side. How many times had I been in this very barn, working with him on this very plane? We had talked for hours in here about nothing and everything. It had always been easier to talk to him than to...Rafe. Whenever I had a problem, this is where I would come. And all that time, all those years...I wasn't talking to my uncle...I was talking to my father. How could I not have known that? And how could I face him now, knowing that he had...lied to me for so long.
I had just made up my mind to leave when Grace spoke.
"Hi Daddy," she called, her voice echoing loudly in the enclosed area.
Ducking down under the plane, he smiled at us. "Hi Grace, Danny. Just the two people I was looking for," he said, wiping his hands on a dirty rag.
Grace glanced up at me, waiting for me to say something. I watched as my father looked from one of us to the other, his smile fading slightly. "Is something wrong?" he finally asked, coming to stand in front of us. The similarities were obvious to me now, and I kicked myself for not noticing before.
"No, nothing," Grace replied, her voice a bit higher than usual. I guess she was feeling the tension as much as I was. "Why'd you want us?" she asked.
The frown on my father's face deepened as he looked at us. "Well," he began slowly. "Your mom was just in here looking for you Grace. She wants you to take Eva swimming." Grace opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. "It's not too much to ask and I don't think Thomas will be coming by the house today, so you don't have to worry about your hair," he teased, but Grace didn't even rise to the bait.
She looked over at me before responding. As much as I wanted her there to support me, I knew this was something I had to do on my own. I nodded stiffly, letting her know that I would be all right.
"Okay," she sighed. "What did you want Danny for?"
His eyes shifted from Grace to me. "I was hoping he could help me out on the plane," he said, the frown between his eyes deepening. "What do you say, Danny boy? Could you lend me a hand?"
I looked at him for a long moment, willing my mind to work. "Sure," I finally responded in a flat voice, my heart pounding loudly in my ears. It was time to talk.
I didn't hear Grace walk into my little hiding place, but I wasn't surprised she came. She had changed clothes since I saw her at the ballpark a couple hours earlier. Gone was the pretty dress that swirled around her legs and her curly hair done up with ribbons. She'd put on a pair of petal pushers and one of my old t-shirts, her hair pulled back off her face into a ponytail. Finally she looked like the Grace I knew, not the pretty girl who had all the guys on the baseball team asking me questions about her.
"Hey," I replied, not bothering to look over at her. It wasn't like I was mad at her, or anything. It was just that I'd been having a tough week and I really needed a best friend, but she'd been too busy with Thomas. She'd tried to talk to me a few times, sure, but she hadn't been very persistent. Usually, if I was reluctant to talk she would hound me until I gave in. She didn't even put up a fight this time. She had to know that my conversation with that old woman was bothering me, but she didn't have time to waste on me...especially when Thomas was around. Too bad I actually liked the guy, or I could have really hated him.
Grace didn't take offense to my less than warm welcome, which was rather comforting. Instead she quietly walked over and lay down next to me. "You had a really good game today," she said after a few minutes silence. "That throw you made to second in the sixth inning was perfect."
I was surprised that she had been paying attention to the game. Every time I saw her she was surrounded by people, laughing and chatting away. But I wasn't going to be won over that easily, so I remained silent.
"How's your leg?" she finally asked, looking over at me.
"Fine," I replied grudgingly. Actually it hurt like a son of a bitch, but I wasn't about to admit it.
I heard her sigh lightly as she turned to watch the clouds float by. This was when she'd leave, I knew. All week, as long as I remained silent, she'd give up and go find Thomas. I didn't need her, I told myself. I didn't.
"Thomas pitched a good game today," I said suddenly. Okay, maybe I did need her. I had missed her all week. Maybe I had pushed her away, but that didn't mean I didn't want her around. I just wanted the old Grace who would bug and pester me until I finally opened up and talked about what was bothering me...about that old woman...and that I suspected that she might me right. I could barely admit it to myself, but I knew Grace would make me. She always made me face reality. I'd come to expect that from her, and she'd let me down this week. Her social life was more important than me and my stupid worries. But if talking about Thomas kept her there for a bit longer, then I was willing to talk about him. I was lonely.
I felt her eyes on me, but I refused to look. "Yes, he did," she agreed. "But it was your defense at the plate that won the game."
That startled me. I looked over at her, trying to mask me shock. I had assumed she was totally focused on Thomas whenever she was watching the game. "Thanks," I said, a small grin crossing my face briefly. It felt good to be noticed.
Grace smiled her motherly smile. The one that let me know that she knew exactly what I was thinking and was amused by it. "I may like Thomas," she said matter-of-factly, "but you are still my best friend." She rolled over onto her side and looked down at me. "Right?" she asked, poking me in the chest.
I grinned up at her. "Yeah," I agreed, my voice cracking. I blushed, but Grace didn't comment. I almost felt like crying, I was so glad that she still thought of me as her best friend.
Grace lay back down and we watched the clouds in companionable silence. It was almost like nothing had happened. As if those last few weeks were only a bad dream.
"I'm sorry you can't take the plane up yet," Grace said, breaking the peaceful silence with a cold dash of reality.
"You heard, huh?" I asked, frowning.
"I was on the porch last night when you were talking with your mom," she told me.
I was sorry she had heard that. Not one of my best moments. I kind of lost it. I knew that what I had said, about Uncle Danny, had hurt my mom. I wanted to take it back as soon as I said it, mainly because I didn't want to see that look on her face...the look that told me I might be right.
"I thought...he...dad...would have calmed down by now. I don't know," I sighed. "Flying is the one thing I love to do...and he won't let me. We're always fighting. I don't know when I'll get to fly again." I could feel my throat tightening with the threat of tears. I had been holding this in for so long. I was frustrated and mad...and until now I had no one to talk to about it. I had talked to Uncle Danny in the beginning, but I just couldn't talk to him now, not after the old woman. Grace was my only other option, and she hadn't been interested...until now.
Grace looked over at me. "It was a pretty stupid stunt you pulled. You scared us to death."
I could only grimace. "I know." That's all I'd heard for weeks...that it was a stupid stunt, that I was lucky, etc, etc, until I wanted to scream. How many times did I have to apologize?
"Uncle Rafe is just worried about you - he doesn't want you to get hurt," she pointed out, unnecessarily.
"I know!" I replied in frustration. The last thing I needed then was one of her holier than thou lectures. "That's what mom said...and Uncle Danny...and Aunt Kate. But I'm a good pilot," I said hotly. "They know that. I know my limitations."
"Do you?" Grace asked softly.
Okay, I did not want this snooty Grace here. I wanted Grace - my best friend, not Grace the all knowing. "Jesus, you sound just like him," I said, sitting up abruptly. "Yes, I do. Okay? I do know my limitations. I'm not stupid!" I ran my hand through my hair in frustration. Suddenly it was all too much; being grounded, the old woman, Grace...I just didn't know what was happening in my life anymore.
"What am I going to do?" I asked, my voice dropping to a plaintive whisper. I knew I was leaving myself wide open for Grace to act all high and mighty and explain everything to me like I was a child...but I almost wanted that. I wanted someone to tell me that everything was okay, that my life would be normal soon.
Grace sat up. "About what?" she asked quietly.
I shrugged helplessly. "You know, I keep hearing that old woman accuse me of lying. And then dad and I fight...and I can't help...wondering...if...."
"She's right?" Grace finished, moving so that she was facing me.
I felt my throat tighten spasmodically. "Yeah," I finally managed to answer. I looked up into her eyes, surprised to see how concerned she was.
She watched me intently for a few moments, seeming to size me up. I tried not to flinch as she stared, the tears stinging the backs of my eyes. I wanted to cry like a baby, for some reason - if only to get rid of the tension that had been building up inside of me for the past week. Sighing softly, she seemed to make her decision. Reaching into her pocket she pulled out a small piece of paper.
"I haven't been able to stop thinking of that old woman either," she said. "Here." She held out the paper for me to take. "I found this and I think you should see it."
I took it, but couldn't bring myself to look at it. "What is it?" I asked suspiciously, almost afraid to look at it.
"It's a picture," she stated, her eyes not leaving mine.
"I can see that," I said wryly, keeping up a brave front as I glanced down at the old black and white photo. "What am I supposed to be seeing here?"
"It's a picture of Daddy and Uncle Rafe when they were about your age," she stated.
I steeled myself and looked again, seeing them standing in front of the old red bi plane, Grandpa Jake smiling next them, I shrugged. "Yeah, okay, it's them. Big deal." I tried to act cool, but my stomach had suddenly tied itself into knots. I didn't want to look any more, so I tried to hand it back to her. She didn't take it. Instead she handed me another picture. This one I recognized immediately. It was my school picture taken earlier that year. "It's a picture of me. So what?"
I tried to hand them back to her again, my hand trembling slightly. There was a rushing sound in my ears and my heart was beating faster. I didn't want to look, I couldn't. I had seen enough and I wasn't ready. I thought I was, but I wasn't. I wanted more than anything to run away at that moment, but I couldn't, I was glued to that spot.
"Danny look at them!" Grace urged me. Taking them from me she laid one over the other and held them in front of me. "Look!" she demanded.
And so I did. She had overlaid my school picture so that Dad and Grandpa Jake were blocked out. Staring up at me from those photos were two...young boys who looked eerily similar, me and Uncle Danny. For a moment I thought I was going to be sick. I pursed my lips together and stared off into the trees. All week I had been unconsciously comparing myself to Uncle Danny and Matty. Depending on my mood I was either convinced that the old woman was crazy or that she was telling the truth. Now Grace held the proof and there was no arguing it.
"So, the old lady was right," I said hoarsely, blinking back tears.
Grace nodded. "It looks that way."
I continued to stare off into the trees, trying to get my emotions under control. My heart was pounding so loudly I was surprised that Grace didn't hear it. "So they've been lying to me my whole life," I said bitterly.
"I don't think they were lying...." Grace began.
"Then what the hell do you call it?" I asked harshly, launching myself off the ground. I began to pace up and down the small clearing, trying to find some way to get my mind to accept this new truth. "The man I call Dad isn't really my dad...and the man I call Uncle...." I stopped, shaking my head; pressing my fingers into my eyes I tried to stop myself from crying. This was a nightmare.
"I just meant I don't think they meant to keep this from you forever," Grace said, watching me from the ground as I began pacing again. I snorted in response. "Really," she continued. "They haven't really lied about anything...they've just omitted certain details and we assumed..."
I stopped and stared at her incredulously. Was she crazy? "Yeah, they just 'omitted' who my father really was," I snapped. "That's a pretty big lie."
"It was all there," Grace persisted, defending them. "We just didn't do the math...we didn't figure it out until now. If they were really not going to tell you then they would have lied about the rest of the stuff."
I stared down at her with a bewildered expression on my face. What was she talking about? What didn't they lie about? And what the hell did math have to do with anything?
"They lied to me. How was I supposed to know who my father was...I trusted them...and they..." I couldn't finish. As if I had been punched in the gut, I suddenly felt the force of my parent's betrayal. I felt like I was going to be sick again.
"Bear with me," Grace said, holding up her hand for my attention. "I did a little research this week...asked a few questions. How much do you know about how your mom and dad met? And when they dated during the war?"
Research? She did research? That surprised me.
"Which dad?" I asked derisively, but Grace continued to stare at me. "I don't know!" I finally snapped. "What has that got to do with this?" I knew a lot about the attack on Pearl and the Doolittle raid. Dad...Rafe...and Uncle...Danny had told me about it. Every boy goes through his war phase, but I didn't know anything about when my...mom and Rafe dated.
"Everything, Danny. It has everything to do with it," she declared, getting up and coming to stand by me. "What do you know?"
"I don't know!" I snapped again. I didn't have time for this. My world was falling apart and Grace was talking about math and my parent's love life.
"Think," she snapped back. "Tell me what you know."
I sighed in frustration. "They all met during flight physicals...mom was a nurse. Da...Rafe flunked the eye exam, but she felt sorry for him and passed him."
"When?" Grace asked. "Do you know the date?"
"No," I replied, shaking my head. I had no idea where she was going with all this, but it seemed important to her. "Sometime before he went to England, I'd guess," I said sarcastically.
"What else do you know?" she prodded.
I sighed. She just wasn't going to give up. "Mom was transferred to Hawaii...and so was...Unc...your dad. Dad...Rafe...was shot down and had to escape from Occupied France. He and your dad were the only two pilots to get into the air during the Japanese attack, then they volunteered for the raid on Tokyo...where your dad got shot...and Rafe came home...." I shrugged, my confusion beginning to overwhelm me. I didn't know what to call anyone anymore.
"And then you were born..." she said softly.
I was loosing my patience. "Yeah, so? Look, Grace, where are you going with this, because I have more things on my mind than..."
"Shut up and listen to me," she interrupted, her voice no nonsense. "I knew you'd be upset when you saw those pictures...the resemblance is obvious, so I did some research...so you'd have all the facts and wouldn't go flying off at the handle." I looked at her impatiently, crossing my arms across my chest. She knew that I wasn't the type to do that. "Okay," she admitted. "I didn't think you'd go crazy when you saw, but I knew you'd be hurt and confused.... and I wanted to try to get as much of the story as possible...without having it censored, or abridged." She looked up at me, her eyes bright with compassion.
"What did you do?" I finally asked.
She smiled slightly. "I pretended that I had to write a family history paper based on the war. And then I asked Daddy and Uncle Rafe and Aunt Evelyn all kinds of questions. I didn't know if the old woman was right or not, but once I saw that picture...I had a feeling she was...and I wanted to find out the truth. I knew you wouldn't go looking for it...at least not yet...and I didn't want you to be miserable wondering if she was right or not."
"Oh, yes, it's much better now," I scoffed.
She looked up at me, easily seeing through my bravado. "Wouldn't you rather know the truth and deal with it...then be wondering for weeks on end...never quite sure?" she asked quietly.
Closing my eyes, I nodded. "I'd rather know," I agreed softly. "It's just hard..." Opening up my eyes, I looked at her, seeing the concern in her eyes. "Now tell me how my parents didn't lie to me."
"I didn't mean they didn't lie," she hedged, "I just meant that they didn't mean to lie to you forever. They just omitted certain...things. But I think that they would have told you eventually, or else they would have lied about everything else, which they didn't...so it wasn't really a real lie...it's was a lie of omission...and we could have figured it out but we just never did the math."
There she went with the math again. "Grace, you are not making a lick of sense. A lie is a lie," I told her. "And they lied to me...my whole life...you can't deny that."
"I just...." she began, but then stopped. Shaking her head she made me sit down again. "I'm just saying that things got really complicated and maybe one thing lead to another...and they probably always meant to tell you, but the time just never seemed right." I opened my mouth to say something, but Grace held up her hand. "Just listen to what I have to say, okay?"
"Okay," I agreed.
She took a moment to compose herself, and then she finally began. "Okay, here's the basics of what I learned. Daddy and Uncle Rafe met Aunt Evelyn in December 1940. Uncle Rafe joined the Eagle Squadron in January 1941 and Daddy and Aunt Evelyn were transferred to Pearl Harbor separately early that spring. Uncle Rafe was shot down in June and presumed dead. He didn't show up until the night before the attack on Pearl Harbor...did you know that?" she asked, an excited gleam in her eyes.
I shrugged. "Yeah, I knew it."
"You did?" she asked, looking disappointed. "Then you really could have figured it out for yourself."
"What?" I couldn't help asking. "How could I have known Rafe wasn't my father?"
"Uncle Rafe came to Pearl Harbor on December 6th...until then Daddy and Aunt Evelyn thought he was dead. And you were born in July 1942..." she trailed off looking at me expectantly.
I had no idea what she was getting at. "What is your point Grace?" I asked, my frustration rising. "We know all this. It's old news."
"Yes it is," Grace agreed, nodding her head. "We've heard it before. When I talked to them...they each told me basically the same thing...the same dates...everything."
"So?" I asked.
Grace rolled her eyes. "So, they never planned to lie to you forever...I'm sure they were going to tell you."
I could only stare at her blankly. Normally Grace made sense, but right then my life was being turned upside down and she was babbling about dates and math. I still had no idea what she meant.
"Don't you get it?" Grace asked impatiently. "You were born July 30, 1942 and Uncle Rafe didn't get back until December 6th! He couldn't have been your father, unless you were born extremely premature...which you weren't. You were seven pounds, I checked. That's not even close to premature."
"How can you be so sure?" I asked. I was beginning to see where she was going with this, but no matter what, the bottom line was that they had lied to me and I wanted to know why.
"How many brothers do I have?" Grace huffed. "Honestly, don't you pay attention in health class? It takes nine months for a baby to be born - that's forty weeks. If you count back from your birthday it means that you were conceived sometime in late October or early November. A month before Uncle Rafe showed up.
I thought about it. The picture seemed proof enough, but this was hard evidence. It made sense. "Okay, so Dad...Rafe...can't be my father and your dad is," I stated evenly.
"Probably," Grace agreed.
The anger and indignation was still inside me, upset over the fact that I had been lied to for so long, but now something else was beginning to overshadow my initial reaction. They had lied to me...outright, or by omission, it didn't matter to me, but now I began to wonder why. Why hadn't they told me? What had happened to make my mom go from one man to the other?
I looked up at Grace; the tears suddenly back in my eyes. "Why?" I asked plaintively, hating myself for sounding so needy. "What happened...why did they let me believe...?" I was hoping that Grace had the answers, because I sure didn't.
Grace shook her head sadly. "I don't really know. That's the one question I couldn't ask them," she said. She paused for a moment, letting me collect myself. "They thought Daddy died in China," she pointed out.
"So, Rafe comes home and marries his best friend's girl because she's pregnant?" I asked bitterly. I had never thought much about how my parents met, or when they dated. It never mattered to me before. But it did now. Who dated who first, I wondered.
"Maybe," Grace agreed, sadly. "Being an unwed mother...it's not a good thing...and Daddy and Uncle Rafe are like brothers..." she pointed out.
"So what about when Unc...he came home?" I asked, running my hand through my hair. There was a sick feeling in my stomach. "He and your mom were already engaged." How had this happened, I couldn't help wondering? How could I be fathered by one man, yet raised by another, even though my real father was literally next-door?
"Mom was pregnant with Sam," Grace said quietly.
I couldn't stop myself from flinching. "Yeah, okay." I took a deep breath to control my pounding heart and force my stomach back down from my throat. "So...he...wakes up in China and forgets all about my mom and me? Is that it? Didn't he care about us at all?"
"That doesn't sound like Daddy," Grace defended, and I had to admit that a part of me agreed with her, but I just didn't understand how he could be my father and yet not even try to claim me. "He might not have known about...you."
I thought about that for a moment. The idea that he might not have known about me...it was kind of comforting, in an odd way. Then it wasn't like he abandoned me, though it still didn't explain why he let me spend my whole life calling him uncle. "Why wouldn't he have known?" I asked. As much as I liked the idea, I wasn't at all sure that it was realistic. "They didn't ship out until January or February. That's two and a half, three months." I saw the look sadness in her eyes and I turned away, not wanting her to see the tears in mine. "Am I a mistake?" I whispered, finally voicing my most feared thought. "Am I...?"
"Danny stop!" Grace interrupted, rising from the ground to stand beside me. I could feel her hand, cold against the warm skin of my arm. "We don't know what happened back then. There was a war and..."
"And my mom was sleeping with one guy and then she marries another," Danny said bitterly. "I could understand that, almost, since they thought he was dead...but what about when he came home?"
"Uncle Rafe and Aunt Evelyn were already married by then...." Grace said rationally.
"Yeah, and my...father...had a girlfriend and a baby on the way." I could feel my chest beginning to heave as I fought for breath, my anger rising again. Why had they kept me in the dark? Didn't I have a right to know who my father really was? Why had they lied to me for so long? I glared over at Grace. "You've known he wasn't your father your whole life! But no one tells me. He lives right next door, on the same goddamn farm, and everyone let's me go on believing...." The anger suddenly left me and I hung my head. "Didn't he want me?" I couldn't help whispering, feeling a lone tear slide down my face.
Grace pulled me towards her, her arms wrapping around my waist. She was so tiny pressed up against me, her head not even reaching my shoulder, but she felt so very strong. I remained as still as possible, but her grip tightened and I finally gave in. With a small sob I wrapped my arms around her, burying my head in her hair as I let my tears fall.
"Of course he wanted you," Grace reassured me, her hands stroking up and down my back. "Daddy loves you...just like he loves me and Sam and Josh and Matty and Drew and Eva. He's always been there for you."
"Then why didn't I know?" I sniffed, my voice cracking again.
Through my own despair, I began to feel the wetness on my shirtfront and realized that Grace was crying too. "I don't know, Danny," she finally admitted. "I don't know. All we can do is ask."
I hugged her tightly for a moment more before stepping away, my resolve suddenly strong. "Yeah, okay," I agreed, wiping my eyes. "Let's go." Without looking at her I strode quickly out of the clearing and up the path towards home.
"Where are you going?" she called after me.
"To ask some questions," I replied over my shoulder, my strides lengthening in my hurry to get some answers.
"Who are you going to ask?" Grace asked me when she finally managed to catch up.
"My father," I replied over my shoulder, not bothering to slow my steps to accommodate her shorter legs, as I usually would have done.
Grace pointed to the fields behind us. "I think Uncle Rafe's working over in the...."
"Not him," I interrupted shortly. "My real father." I was determined to find out the truth. I wanted to know why I hadn't been told who my real father was. I wanted to know why he didn't want me.
"Oh, okay," Grace said, a bit shocked by my sudden decision. I was usually the one to think things over before diving in, but I wanted answers now. I didn't want to wait. "Wouldn't you rather talk to your mom first?" she asked hesitantly.
"No, mom would just make me wait for da...Rafe," I told her. "I want to know now."
It didn't take us long to reach the barn at the pace I was going. Before I had a chance to really think about what I wanted to say, I was standing in the gloomy darkness. I could hear muffled words and the clanking of tools as my...father...worked on the old plane. Now that I was here, I didn't know what to do.
My momentum carried me all the way into the barn next to the plane, Grace panting slightly beside me. I could feel her concerned gaze on me as she waited for me to say something. I couldn't. I could only stare at the plane, my father's legs visible on the other side. How many times had I been in this very barn, working with him on this very plane? We had talked for hours in here about nothing and everything. It had always been easier to talk to him than to...Rafe. Whenever I had a problem, this is where I would come. And all that time, all those years...I wasn't talking to my uncle...I was talking to my father. How could I not have known that? And how could I face him now, knowing that he had...lied to me for so long.
I had just made up my mind to leave when Grace spoke.
"Hi Daddy," she called, her voice echoing loudly in the enclosed area.
Ducking down under the plane, he smiled at us. "Hi Grace, Danny. Just the two people I was looking for," he said, wiping his hands on a dirty rag.
Grace glanced up at me, waiting for me to say something. I watched as my father looked from one of us to the other, his smile fading slightly. "Is something wrong?" he finally asked, coming to stand in front of us. The similarities were obvious to me now, and I kicked myself for not noticing before.
"No, nothing," Grace replied, her voice a bit higher than usual. I guess she was feeling the tension as much as I was. "Why'd you want us?" she asked.
The frown on my father's face deepened as he looked at us. "Well," he began slowly. "Your mom was just in here looking for you Grace. She wants you to take Eva swimming." Grace opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. "It's not too much to ask and I don't think Thomas will be coming by the house today, so you don't have to worry about your hair," he teased, but Grace didn't even rise to the bait.
She looked over at me before responding. As much as I wanted her there to support me, I knew this was something I had to do on my own. I nodded stiffly, letting her know that I would be all right.
"Okay," she sighed. "What did you want Danny for?"
His eyes shifted from Grace to me. "I was hoping he could help me out on the plane," he said, the frown between his eyes deepening. "What do you say, Danny boy? Could you lend me a hand?"
I looked at him for a long moment, willing my mind to work. "Sure," I finally responded in a flat voice, my heart pounding loudly in my ears. It was time to talk.
