Page 46 of Ten Years Later
“Cora is here,” Sparks said. “She wants to talk to you. Is that okay?”
“Yes,” he croaked.
Sparks left the cell open. She walked the length of the hall and opened the secure door to let Cora step through. Sparks handed Cora the folder, then shut the door, leaving them alone.
Cora stood at the end of the hallway, staring at Keaton sitting in the cell. He didn’t move. He knew he looked bad. He would go to prison for this.
Cora wore a lightweight powder blue cardigan over a white sundress. She took the cardigan off and draped it over her arm as she walked toward him. The sound of her flip-flops smacked lightly on the shiny floor.
She entered his cell and sat beside him on the cot.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” she replied. She placed the folder in her lap and folded her hands on top. She studied him long and hard, something unreadable and heavy in her expression that had nothing to do with his impending sentence and jail time.
Keaton took Cora’s hand. “What is it?”
“I came here yesterday. Did you know that?”
Keaton shook his head.
“Zane called me first, then Detective Sparks. You’ve fixated on Vivian lookalikes before, but never to this extent. Sparks says you’re looking at a child abduction charge, a felony.”
Keaton hadn’t heard that part yet, but it didn’t surprise him.
Cora said, “Losing Vivian was the absolute worst thing I ever went through. It took me years just to function normally, and every time you became fanatical about some girl, it set me back again. I kept thinking, I’ve moved on, why can’t Keaton?”
“I’m sorry,” Keaton whispered and meant it. “I’ve made a mess this time.”
“But when I came here yesterday and saw Emily, I understood.”
Keaton’s hand on hers tightened. “I’m so sorry to put you through this.”
“I made Sparks take my DNA too,” Cora said.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
She opened the folder and took out a sheet. “She’s mine.”
Time suspended. Keaton kept his focus on Cora. The air kicked on, giving the space a bit of white noise. His body floated, there but not. His skin heated, yet the hairs on his arms stood. In the crevice of his brain, he understood her words—Cora’s DNA matched with Emily’s, yet his didn’t.
Still, he said, “I don’t understand.”
“Please know I always thought you were the father. I never once questioned it until yesterday. The birthmark. The hair. The skin tone. The nose. The brown eyes.”
“My brown eyes,” Keaton quickly said. “My art talent.”
“Leo also has brown eyes. More importantly, the nose. No one has a nose quite like Leo.”
Keaton thought of Emily’s face and how her nose tipped up on the end. On her it looked cute. On Leo, it always seemed strange.
“But my art talent,” Keaton halfheartedly said.
“I think you forget that I’m an artist too. Remember all the first place ribbons I used to tease you about?”
He smiled a little.
So did she.
