Page 58 of Among the Sins of my Father

“Dominque?” I echo. “Her name is Odette.”

Ette’s brows bunch together. “But why would anyone need to whisper if no one was around?”

“Don’t talk back!” Mary snaps. Then she attempts to recover herself, smoothing her hair and schooling the expression on her face back to one of passivity. “It’s rude,” she adds, her voice now calmer.

Tears spring to Ette’s eyes but she doesn’t say any more. I’m dying to reach out and embrace her, tell her everything will be okay. If Jericho searched for Hope for years, there was no way he was going to give up on us. He will find us.

Michael is still standing, glaring at his father.

“We’re going,” Mr Gorman says with finality, daring his son to defy him further by meeting his glare. Tension floats around the room, infecting us all until, after a few breath-holding moments, Michael sits back down.

“It’s time for you to leave the table, Dominque. The adults are talking,” Mary instructs.

“But I haven’t finished eating.”

“You would have had the time to finish if you didn’t insist on holding Everly’s hand the whole time.”

“Her name is Berkley, not Everly,” Ette mutters under her breath.

“And her name is Odette, not Dominque,” I don’t mutter.

Mary bends low and whispers in Ette’s ear. She lets go of my hand, her eyes sliding to mine and her chin trembling. “Yes, Mary,” she says.

“I’ve told you to call me Mother.”

“She has a mother,” I say, lifting my chin.

Mary ignores me and gestures to Ette to leave. She slides off the seat and walks with her head down. Before slipping through the door, she stops and looks back at me.

“When will I see you again?”

My heart breaks at the tears in her eyes.

“Now!” Mary screeches.

Her voice startles me. My heart breaks and tears spring to Ette’s eyes and she scurries through the door. Anger simmers. I place my knife and fork down on my plate and push it away, most of the food left uneaten. I can’t look at anyone. I can’t look at them because if I do, I will explode.

There are noises, a chair scraping across the floor and then I feel Michael’s hands on my shoulders. Hot and heavy. He tugs at my ponytail, freeing my hair and presses a kiss to the top of my head.

“It’s Everly’s birthday in a few days. I was thinking it was about time we had a party, introduced her back into the world. Again.”

“Great idea, son.” Any of the tension between father and son vanishes, or at least gets pushed under the surface.

Michael pulls out Ette’s chair and sits down. “You could even invite some of your friends from the dance company.”

“I don’t want a party.”

“Don’t be so ungrateful,” my father says.

“You could dance!” Michael says, ignoring my insistence of not wanting a party.

Mrs Gorman looks up, the first time she’s shown any interest in the conversation. “What a wonderful idea! We could theme the entire décor around Swan Lake. I can picture it. Oh, it will be so beautiful. And we could make it a masquerade party, that way your father could be there too and no one would even know.”

“Brilliant!” My father can’t contain his grin. He’s been complaining that he’s stuck here, unable to participate in any of the social engagements that the Gormans attend. “And Everly could do that scene where the swan dies.” My father winks.

“That’s not even from Swan Lake,” I mutter.

“Yes, it is,” he insists. “The Dying Swan I believe it’s called. Rather apt, don’t you think?”

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