"When?"

"Do you remember when you came to the house? When Greg first vanished?"

He nodded. He had just been thinking about that day.

"You were looking out the window at him. He was in the yard with his sister."

"I remember," Myron said.

"Greg and I were going through that nasty custody battle."

"You accused him of abusing the children."

"It wasn't true. You realized that right away. It was just a legal ploy."

"Some ploy," Myron said. "Next time accuse him of war atrocities."

"Who are you to judge me?"

"Actually," Myron said, "I think I'm just the person."

Emily pinned him with her eyes. "Custody battles are war without the Geneva Accords," she said. "Greg got nasty. I got nasty back. You do whatever you have to in order to win."

"And that includes revealing that Greg wasn't Jeremy's father?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I won custody anyway."

"That's not an answer. You hated Greg."

"Yes."

"Still do?" he asked.

"Yes." No hesitation.

"So why didn't you tell him?"

"Because as much as I loathe Greg," she said, "I love Jeremy more. I could hurt Greg. I'd probably enjoy it. But I couldn't do that to my son--take away his father like that."

"I thought you'd do anything to win."

"I'd do anything to Greg," she said, "not Jeremy."

It made sense, he guessed, but he suspected she was holding something back. "So you kept this secret for thirteen years."

"Yes."

"Do your parents know?"

"No."

"You never told anyone?"

"Never."

"So why are you telling me now?"

Emily shook her head. "Are you being purposely dense, Myron?"

He put his hands on the table. They weren't shaking. Somehow he understood that these questions came from more than mere curiosity; they were part of the defense mechanism, the internal barbed wire and moat he'd lavishly built to keep Emily's revelation from reaching him. He knew that what she was telling him was life altering in a way nothing he'd ever heard before was. The words my son kept floating through his subconscious. But they were just words right now. They'd get through eventually, he guessed, but for now the barbed wire and moat were holding.

"You think I wanted to tell you? I practically begged you to help, but you wouldn't listen. I'm desperate here."

"Desperate enough to lie?"

"Yes," she said, again with no hesitation. "But I'm not, Myron. You have to believe that."

He shrugged. "Maybe someone else is Jeremy's father."

"Excuse me?"

"A third party," he said. "You slept with me the night before your wedding. I doubt I was the only one. Could be one of a dozen guys."

She looked at him. "You want your pound of flesh, Myron? Go ahead, I can take it. But this isn't like you."

"You know me that well, huh?"

"Even when you got angry--even when you had every right to hate me--you've never been cruel. It's not your way."

"We're in uncharted waters here, Emily."