He hadn’t anticipated Poppy’s pain. What a time, with Poppy sitting right in front of him, to realize what a selfish shit he’d been, and what a shitty job he’d done trying to navigate that messy situation with Ann and Anthony. Poppy was the victim of collateral damage. “It’s such a long story.”

“Who’s the dad?”

Such a straightforward question, but the answer had been a secret for so long that it felt like it was still locked away. “Ann should explain that to you.”

“Oh, come on.” She slapped her hands by her sides and stared at him, imploring, waiting for him to break. He looked right back at her. Even after all these years, she knew he was stubborn and wouldn’t back down. “I’ve been pissed at you all these years for something you now say you didn’t do. Why did you lie?”

“Did you ever hear me say that was my kid? Did those words ever come out of my mouth?”

“No. Nothing did.” Poppy looked angry, as if she wanted to put up a fight but then, in almost that same moment, she looked sad and defeated. He’d forgotten about Poppy’s incredible emotional range. She was nothing like Ann, who rode her emotions like an arrow. “You left.”

“You’re right,” he said. “I left. You can be pissed at me for that.”

“I guess I’ve done my share of leaving.” Poppy walked over to the window and stood with her back to him. Michael watched her stare out at the gravel parking lot through the yellowed plastic shades, all pent up.

Michael walked over to her and put his hand on her shoulder, afraid she’d push him away. “Want to get out of here?” Michael asked. He knew Poppy needed to move around, the same way he did. “Go for a walk or something?”

Poppy nodded. “A walk would be great.”

MICHAEL PARKED HIS TRUCK NEAR Wireless Road. They followed a fire road that eventually led to White Cedar Swamp and Marconi Station, where the first transatlantic signal was sent.

He remembered how much Poppy loved to explore the fire roads. She was always up for an adventure, always looking for a new place, some amazing discovery she could make. She showed him how to get to Dyer Pond and access the remote houses on the far shore that he’d only seen from the water. Before she showed him the way, he couldn’t figure out how people got to those houses. The Cape was nothing like Milwaukee, where the streets were part of a neat grid, the houses announcing themselves, lined up and orderly.