“Me, too,” I admit, allowing myself to remember that night and the horror that followed. “But we said awful things to each other. We believed awful things of each other. People who are meant to be together don’t fall apart like that. And he didn’t chase me to New York, did he.” It wasn’t a question. “Didn’t contact me once all these years.”

“What was it like seeing him again?”

How to sum that up in a word or two or even three? I settle on, “Confusing.”

“Confusing, how?”

“Past to present. He’s the same, but different.”

“Do you like him?”

“I don’t know him.”

“Is he a danger to us?”

“Nah,” I say without having to wonder. “At least, not directly. He isn’t malicious, Anne. He wants answers about his mother. If those answers incriminate Dad, then yes, he’s a danger.”

Anne smiled sadly. “You still call him Dad.”

“I don’t know for sure that he isn’t. He’s the only father I’ve ever had.”

Anne initiates the hug this time. “I’m sorry, Mallory. You’re so calm about this, but I’m reeling.”

“I’m not calm,” I say, clinging to her. “I’m terrified. It’s just that I’ve had time to get used to the idea.”

“DNA test?”

“Dad would never go for that.”

“We could take a hair from his brush.”

“Not as reliable.”

She draws back, eyes compassionate in a way that makes me feel there’s hope for us yet. “You’ve read up on this.”

“Oh, yes,” I say, but with a lightness that wasn’t there before. I feel so much better having told her this. Jack knows. Chrissie knows. But my sister is different from them. The fact that she’s moved past the mom-cheated place gives me courage. “He knows, Annie. The answers are somewhere in that mind of his. We need to ask.”

“I’m not doing that,” she drawls. “He thinks I’m flakey. You’d be better at it. What about asking Margo if she knows? She was the closest to Mom all those years. Maybe Mom said something to her.”

“If Margo knew, wouldn’t she have said something to me, especially after Mom died?”

“Not if she thought it would wreck you.”

She’s right, insightful in this. How many times have I told myself that it isn’t worth the heartache of going public with my fears? “I could ask her. I will. But I need to talk with Jack first.”

With a half turn, Anne clutches my arm. Her eyes are large and intense. “Don’t flip, Mal. Please don’t.”

“Flip?”

“To Jack. Or Margo. I want you on my side.”

“This isn’t about taking sides.”

“It is. With families as broken as ours, it always is.”