Page 92 of Just Say Christmas
“You’re right, mate,” Rhys said. “I do. I’m glad to have somebody to discuss science with. And I’ve got time to be a dad.” He was never going to get through this day without crying. His chest was tight with it already.
“If Casey’s dad was my dad,” Isaiah said, “that makes her sort of my sister.”
“That’s true,” Zora said.
“But she was sort of my sister anyway,” Isaiah said, “so that’s not too different. It’s more blood, that’s all. Or actually, it’s more DNA, because it’s not really your blood. It’s your DNA.”
* * *
Casey was sittingoutside the bunny run with Marshmallow, her favorite, in her lap. This time, Rhys didn’t sit down. He said, “I need a thousand white pebbles from the track through the trees. Casey and Isaiah, could you get them, please? You can sort out how to count them.”
Casey’s eyes were red, her face streaked with tears. She asked, “Why?”
Rhys said, “It’s a surprise. It’s important.” Zora handed her a couple tissues, because Zora was that kind of mum.
“I’m holding Marshmallow, though,” Casey said, but she did blow her nose.
“I’ll hold him,” he said. “Or better yet—Auntie Zora will hold him, and I’ll hold another bunny. Once you get the pebbles, we can each hold a bunny, because this is a hard talk for us to have, and an important talk. We could all need a bunny.”
Casey didn’t look convinced, but Isaiah said, “We can use flower jars. One hundred pebbles in each one. You can pick them up and I’ll keep count, Casey, because I’m a better rememberer.”
It took a while. Zora didn’t say much. She sat cross-legged on the grass beside him instead and stroked Marshmallow. He got Cocoa out of the run and sat beside her, running the tiny rabbit’s velvety-soft, floppy brown ears through his fingers as he told Zora, “This is oddly soothing.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” she said. “I’m trusting the answer is ‘yes.’”
“I’m guessing. Or call it exercising my judgment. Sounds better, eh.”
“But then,” she said, “you’re famously good at exercising your judgment. Maybe that’s why I’m trusting you to do it now.”
“Some things are more important than rugby games. When I talk, if there’s something you want to say? Chime in. I trust your judgment as well. Better than mine, for this. But I think Casey needs to hear it from me.”
“I think you’re right,” she said, and that was all.
One after another, the kids brought the jars full of white pebbles and set them before the two of them. Two jars. Four. Six. Eight. And finally—ten.
“Right,” Rhys said. “Is this a thousand?”
“Yes,” Casey said. “I think so. Isaiah counted.”
“Yes,” Isaiah said. “I paid attention.”
“And you’re good at paying attention,” Rhys said. “I trust you.” Couldn’t say that too much, he reckoned. “Go get a bunny apiece, and we’ll do this.”
He and Zora on one side. Casey and Isaiah sitting on the other, a bunny in every lap. Enough bunnies for the whole family. Rhys said, “I’m going to pour them out,” and did. One jar after another. Ten piles of white stones.
“A thousand stones,” he said. “The first time I heard of you, Casey, was from my lawyer. He rang me after training one day and told me I had a daughter. Once we sorted out what had happened, why I was on your birth certificate as your father, he told me I could take a DNA test if I didn’t want you. Isaiah can probably tell us what that means.”
“It means they match you,” Isaiah said. “You have cells in your body that have DNA, and DNA is sort of like a name tag. Like a name tag in code, only it’s just your name and nobody else’s, so it’s a really strong code. If they compare your code with somebody else’s code, they can tell if you’re in their family.”
“Got that?” Rhys asked Casey.
“I think so,” she said. “Like Isaiah says. Like blood.”
“Yes,” Isaiah said, “except it’s not just in your blood. It’s in your hair and your skin and everything. Every part of you has the code.”
“That’s right,” Rhys said. “And what I found out was that because I was Dylan’s brother, they’d have to test extra hard to see if I was your father. Yourbirthfather, because there are all kinds of fathers. There’s a heart father, too. That’s a dad.” He got that tightening in his chest again and went on fast. “They’d have to test so they’d be sure to the thousandth place. That means that out of a thousand stones . . .” His hand hovered at the edge of the last pile. “There might only be three chances that you weren’t mine.” He took the three stones away, one at a time, and placed them to one side. “If I were your biological father, your birth father, it would be less than one stone’s difference. A tiny piece of a stone.” He looked at Isaiah. “Ninety-nine-point-seven. That’s how likely I might be to be Casey’s dad. Nine hundred ninety-seven stones out of a thousand the same as Casey.”
“OK,” Casey said. Her eyes were still big, but she wasn’t crying anymore, and she wasn’t frozen. She was waiting for him to go on. Listening. Trusting him to know, and to tell her.
