I looked at her.
Clara ate a bite of cake.
She did not speak like someone trying to impress me. Her sentences were short. She paused before answering difficult questions. Sometimes she repeated part of what I said to make sure she understood.
But she understood more than people expected.
“Why are you marrying Ethan?” I asked.
She looked down at her plate.
“I love him.”
The answer came quickly.
“Does he love you?”
She became quiet.
“Clara?”
“He stays.”
“That isn’t exactly what I asked.”
“He comes when I call. He listens. He does not talk to me like I am a child.”
“Has he said he loves you?”
She frowned.
“He says I am important.”
“That is not the same.”
“I know.”
Her voice became smaller.
I immediately regretted pushing her.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m not trying to upset you.”
“People think I don’t know things.”
“I don’t think that.”
“Some things are hard for me.”
She counted on her fingers.
“Long papers. Money. Fast talking. When people say one thing but mean another.”
She looked at me.
“But I know when people are sad. I know when people are lying.”
My stomach tightened.
“Do you think Ethan is lying?”
Clara took a long time to answer.
“No.”
Then she added, “But he has a secret.”
I felt cold.
“What secret?”
“He says it is not time.”
“About the baby?”
“No.”
“About your father?”
Her eyes lifted sharply.
I knew I had touched something important.
Clara pushed her cake away.
“My dad knew Ethan.”
“How?”
“I don’t know all of it.”
“Did Ethan tell you?”
“He said my dad helped him a long time ago.”
“What kind of help?”
Clara shook her head.
“He said he would tell me later.”
That made no sense.
If Ethan was about to marry her, why was he still hiding something connected to her dead father?
I looked at Clara’s stomach.
“Where is the baby’s father?”
Her face closed.
“Gone.”
