Chapter 7

I didn't watch Grace leave the barn, my eyes were focused on my father. It was like extreme tunnel vision. Everything else around me was fuzzy and indistinct, but I saw every detail of him, from his well-worn khaki pants with the ripped knee to his grease stained t-shirt - his usual attire when working on the plane. But it was his face I concentrated on most. How had I not noticed the similarities before? Now it seems so obvious. There were wrinkles around his eyes and his dimples were deeper when he smiled due to the laugh lines around his mouth, but he still looked like me...or, rather, I looked like him. The only obvious difference was that my hair was much darker.

I thought of all the days I spent working in here beside him. All the long conversations we had. I told him everything. We talked about school, baseball, my parents, Grace - we'd even had a couple conversations about girls. I liked talking to him. He never judged me and he rarely offered me advice unless I specifically asked. Mostly he just listened while I talked. He'd ask me a few questions, maybe, but that was it. When I left I always felt better. It wasn't like talking to my dad...Rafe. Rafe and I talked, but it was different. Rafe always wanted to solve my problems. He was full of advice and useful suggestions, which I didn't necessarily want. And lets face it, I couldn't complain about my parents to him. Uncle Danny...Danny...was the best guy friend I had.

"I'll be at the swimming pond," Grace's words interrupted my reverie.

I frowned. "Yeah, okay." My heart was pounding loudly in my ears and my palms were sweaty. The sooner she left, the sooner we could get started. I was determined to find out why; why I wasn't told and, more importantly, why he didn't want me.

I watched him watch Grace leave, a frown flitting across his face. We even frowned the same way, I noticed. He knew something was wrong. Grace never babysat without making some kind of protest and I was usually more enthusiastic about working on the plane. I tried to relax a little bit, but it wasn't possible, all my muscles were coiled like a spring.

Once Grace was gone he turned his attention to me. It was strange, but I was still in so much shock that I didn't know what to think of him as. Uncle Danny was just wrong... I wasn't going to continue to add to the lie, but I couldn't think of him as 'Dad' either. I settled on thinking of him as just Danny, even though it felt weird. Years of habit were hard to break.

"So," he began, walking back over to the plane. "How're you doing, Danny? How's your leg?"

"Fine," I replied, not moving to follow. He was acting like he always did - asking questions to draw me out, using the plane as a distraction, but I wasn't going to play along this time. This time he was going to be the one to talk and I was going to be the one to ask the questions.

"Bruised?" he tried again, stifling a frown.

I shrugged. "A bit."

"It was a great save," he remarked, smiling up at me as he squatted to dig in the toolbox. "You had a hell of a game today."

Any other time I would have been thrilled to hear him say that, but baseball no longer mattered to me. I shrugged again. "I guess."

I watched him silently dig through the toolbox. I knew it was a pretense. He was just trying to figure out what was bothering me.

"I'm sorry about you still being grounded," he said, looking up at me. "I know it might seem harsh, but Rafe only wants you safe."

Here was the opening I was looking for. I cocked my head to the side, looking at him speculatively. "Do you think he's being too harsh?" I finally asked.

"Well, it's not really my place...." he replied, glancing away from me briefly, the tools forgotten.

"But if..." I began slowly, my heart speeding up, "if you were...my...father," I swallowed nervously, watching him, "would you have grounded me for so long?"

He stood up slowly, his eyes avoiding my stare. "Rafe's just doing what he thinks is best," he said, his eyes focused not on me, but the wrench in his hand. "I know he talked it over with your mom," he looked over and offered me a shaky smile. "It's not really my place to interfere."

"Isn't it?" I asked him softly, causing his head to whip up sharply. Despite my own erratically beating heart I pressed on, knowing that this was my one chance of getting the whole unabridged truth. I did my best to remain calm as I continued. "Last week at Tildy's Grace and I met someone who said they knew you when you were a kid. She said she was the librarian."

He looked away again, clearing his throat uncomfortably, his hand running through his hair, standing it on end. He knew what was coming, I could tell, but he still tried to stall. "Short? Grey hair, dark eyes....uses a cane?" he asked, his voice hoarse. I nodded once. "That would be Mrs. Gorf. I can't believe she's still alive. You know," he offered, "she's not as mean as she might seem."

"She accused me of lying," I told him, not caring what the old buzzard might be like. "She wouldn't believe me when I said that Matty and Drew weren't my brothers. She wouldn't believe Grace, either. She said I was just like my father…I looked like him...even read like him," I tried to stay calm, but my voice was rising, my anger at her, and him, showing itself. "I told her my father doesn't even like to read; that he would never step foot into a library," my voice began to shake. "But she just laughed. She just laughed at me with this look in her eyes....." angrily I swiped at my eyes, not wanting to breakdown before I got my answers.

He just stared at my for a minute, his eyes incredibly sad...because I was obviously upset or because I had finally figured it out, I wasn't sure. "Danny," he began hesitantly, glancing behind me, looking for reinforcements probably. "Rafe and your mom...."

I started laughing nervously, the stress finally getting to me. "'Rafe and your mom,'" I repeated harshly. "It's never 'your father' or 'your dad.' It's always Rafe," I accused bitterly. "I never realized it before, but you've never called him my father, at least not that I can remember. Never." I wiped away another tear. Reaching into my pocket I pulled out the pictures Grace had given to me earlier. "Grace did some looking around and she found these," I held them out to him.

Slowly he walked over and took them from me, his eyes never leaving my face. I was somewhat gratified to see his hand tremble slightly as he held them. "So, Grace wasn't working on a history paper," he said wryly, grinning weakly at me before he looked at the pictures. He sighed deeply before looking up at me. "I don't know what to say," he finally admitted.

My heart beating loudly, I asked him the question that had been haunting me for the past weeks. "Are you my...father?" I asked, my voice hoarse with unshed tears.

He glanced away from me and my heart almost stopped. Would he continue to lie to me or would he try to buy himself more time? I didn't think I could handle it if he lied to me yet again. I had always come to him when I needed answers. I had always trusted him. That trust had already been damaged, anything else and it would be irreparable, and I didn't know if I could stand that.

Luckily I didn't have to worry because, before my heart totally stopped, he nodded. "Yes," he answered softly, looking me right in the eye.

We stood staring at each other for what seemed like a long time. My eyes were burning, my heart was pounding and I felt the sudden urge to throw up. Then my ears started buzzing and I thought I might actually pass out. It reminded me of the time I fell out of the old climbing tree when I was nine and dislocated my shoulder. Unc...Danny had been the one to reach me first after Grace went running home. I didn't start crying until I saw him coming. And when he finally reached me, I remember feeling immensely relieved...and then the buzzing started and I passed out. Mom said it was because I was in shock from the pain.

Well, I was in shock and in pain now, though it was of a different, emotional sort. I would have gladly borne the physical pain to make this all go away. All the evidence had pointed to this truth, but to have it so easily confirmed.... I had thought that I was ready, but I wasn't. I could feel my world crumbling and shifting under my feet. Nothing was ever going to be the same again.

He watched me closely, cataloging all the emotions that crossed my face. At one point he took a step towards me, his hand out to... comfort me possibly. I didn't know and I didn't care. I backed away from him, the feelings of betrayal still strong. He had lied to me. They all had, but he the most. He had sat here in this very hangar and pretended to be my friend...the one person I could tell everything to. But he wasn't my friend...he was my father. I had thought that we never kept secrets from each other. I never did. When he asked me who broke the plate glass window in their house I told him it was me...even though I told everyone else, including Rafe that I didn't know. When I asked him where babies came from, or why Mrs. Barret had left Mr. Barret - he explained it all to me. We had trust. We were friends. And now....

"Danny, say something," he pleaded with me.

"Why?" I whispered. "Why didn't anyone tell me? Why?" I asked, my voice gaining a bit more strength as anger surged through me once again. "Grace has known all along that you weren't her father - and her father is dead! You live right next door - and no one tells me anything." Tears began to flow down my cheeks. I couldn't stop them anymore. "Didn't you want me?" I asked brokenly. "Didn't you...love...me?" I whispered. Honestly, I didn't doubt his love now, but then...when he came back...wasn't I good enough? For him to turn his back on his own son...me... I just didn't understand.

"Oh god," he whispered, as he moved towards me, pulling me into his arms. I weakly resisted, but he held me tight. As much as I might have hated him then, I wanted to be held, to be reassured that he loved me; that he had always loved me. I cried brokenly against his neck, his pounding heart echoing through me. "I've always loved you. And I've always wanted you," he told me, hugging me tightly, his own tears wetting my neck.

I pulled away self consciously, wiping at my tears. "Then why didn't you tell me?" I asked. "Why did you let me believe that Rafe was my father?"

He looked away for a moment, wiping at his own tears. "Because Rafe is your father," he said sadly.