“But not. And you told people he was your husband. You told me he was.”

“I wanted us to be a family.”

“But you lied.” Jason stands and waves the papers in front of her. “You’ve never been married. You have two sons, and neither have fathers listed on their birth certificates.” He thrusts copies of his and Harvey’s birth certificates into her hand. “Do you even know who my dad is?”

“Jason.”

“All those stories you told. The war hero. Big marine. Do you know how many people in this country are named David Moore? And I was just looking at the dead ones. So tell me.”

“I don’t know.” She leans against the wall, eyes closed. “I’m sorry.”

“What about that stuffed dog you said he gave me? Where did you get that, the thrift shop?”

“It was my brother’s.”

“Oh yeah. Your brother. Your wonderful, brilliant brother, who beat the shit out of your dad. There’s a story.” He’s in her face now.

Don’t blink, don’t blink.

“No wonder you read all that true-crime crap when I was a kid.”

“I work at the courthouse.”

“Or maybe you’re interested in why people try to kill each other.” His voice is so loud that now she has to turn away, wanting to cover her ears with her hands, but she knows she can’t do that, and she’s worried about where Harvey is, and that old man. Where is he?

“It was an accident.” She takes a deep breath and opens her eyes. Peggy is still out there in a puddle of light, and she is relieved to see Harvey walking up from the woods, a stick held out in front of him like a sword.

“That’s not what’s in the papers,” he says. “The paper says your crazy brother went nuts, and you hid under a bed while it all went down.”

“No,” she says. “My brother was scared—they hurt him. And he won that dog at the fair. He was a winner.”

“Right. And what about my dad, huh? What’s the DNA story there?”

“He was kind. And handsome.”

“And what was his real name, Mom? Alive? Dead?”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry because my whole life is a lie!” Jason shoves all the papers to the floor and starts pacing, fists clenched. “Do you even know where your parents are?”

“Dead,” she says. “In my life, they are dead.”

“He is, but for all I know, she’s still alive somewhere. I didn’t find an obituary.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“But it matters to me,” he says. “My life is one big lie.”

“That isn’t true.”

“Yes, it is. Your life is a lie, and that makes mine one, too. Are you even really my mother?”