I looked at my friend and saw tears in her eyes, dimples of emotion in her chin. It was rare to see this display of feeling from Freya. She delivered intense, heartfelt words with a breezy casualness. She shared tales of her childhood pain as if she’d read about them in a book. But she was hurting now. She was worried.

“The baby will change him,” I said quickly. “It will become the most important thing in the entire world, and he’ll realize he has to get help. He’ll have to forgive himself in order to be a good dad.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I know so,” I said with an adamance I could not back up. But I believed that this baby was going to be transformative. Freya and Max would become the people their child needed: warm, doting, adoring. It was biology: nature’s way of ensuring the propagation of the species. And everything felt good and right and possible at that time.

Freya smiled at me. “You always know what to say to make me feel better.”

I returned her fond gaze, feeling pleased and warmed. Everything was going to be all right. I would make sure of it.

Chapter 48

48

The e-mail came in about a week later, via Hawking Mercantile’s website. I had set up a contact address for customers and potential suppliers. The sender’s name was unfamiliar, the address a generic Gmail account. I thought it must be spam; I almost deleted it. The only words were:

Please read this.

And then a link.

I was alone in the kitchen, my laptop set up on the small pine table. We had had an early dinner, now I was paying invoices while Brian watched TV in the living room. If I’d asked his opinion, he would have told me not to click. He’d warned me many times about phishing and viruses. But I didn’t call out for advice as my mouse hovered over the words and I debated whether the message was safe and legitimate. Something told me to take the risk. And so, I clicked.

An article from the Calgary Herald filled my screen. I had an aunt in Calgary, had visited her on a few summer vacations when I was growing up. It was an archived story from several years ago, about NHL hockey player Max Beausoleil. He’d been involved in a paternity suit; a woman had sued him for child support. My brow crinkled with confusion and concern. Did Max have another child out there? Did Freya know about it? Why had they never mentioned it?