Page 37 of One Small Secret

Even Mom is starting to look at us questioningly, and she knows Axley isn’t my child, let alone Ruben’s.

Ruben’s parents are here for Christmas, and I can’t remember the last time I saw them. They spent a lot of Ruben’s high school years in Colorado on a small cherry orchard. Ben chose to sell his apple orchard to my grandparents, but Ruben’s parents went back to their farming roots. Funny how things like that happen. The last thing I wanted to do was grow apples, and the last thing Ben’s parents wanted to do was operate a hotel chain. I never heard why Ruben stayed in Rosco with Ben when they left, even though I’d always been curious.

Ruben’s mom and dad haven’t said much. They’re probably waiting for conclusive evidence before they show excitement or disappointment. I don’t think any of them would be as suspicious if it weren’t for the fact that Axley’s coloring really does look more like Ruben’s than mine. Curse Moira and her amazingly dark hair.

The only other person at the table besides my family and the Palmers is Andrew. He’d been one of Ruben’s best friends during our sophomore year, but I hadn’t seen him since he graduated. Doesn’t he have a family of his own he should be spending Christmas with? Did I ruin another person’s Christmas by allowing Christian to think Ruben was Axley’s dad?

We make it to dessert—a chocolate custard that looks divine but will totally ruin Axley’s best shirt—before Ben brings up the elephant in the room. “I suppose you know that Ruben told us Axley isn’t his.”

“Yes. And it’s true.” I take a bite of custard, hoping it signals the end of the conversation.

But Ben isn’t deterred. “Then why have you been hiding him?”

“I haven’t been hiding him.”

Ben raises an eyebrow and turns to Mom. “Ruth, did you know about Axley when he was born?”

I put a hand on Mom’s arm. She hates lying, she's terrible at it, and she didn’t find out about Axley until after Moira took off on that plane. “Mom found out about Axley almost as soon as I did.” Mom’s shoulders relax.

Ben sets down his spoon. “Then why didn’t you tell us about him? If Ruben had a child—and I’m not convinced he doesn’t—you know I would be showing everyone his picture. You didn’t even mention Axley.”

Mom straightened. “It’s not like we see each other every day, Ben.”

If Ben heard what Mom said, he didn’t show it. “And just look at his coloring. His hair is exactly the color of Ruben’s, and mine, for that matter.”

“Your hair is gray,” Mom answers as if that proves anything. She's floundering, and I’m tired of everyone saying Axley doesn’t look like me. He's as much mine as anyone else’s in this room. I make his bottle every morning and sleep next to him every night.

“He has my ears,” I say with determination, lifting my chin. “His ears look exactly like mine.”

Mom blinks and turns to Axley. His hair is floppy, so half of his ear is covered. She pulls up the dark locks, looks under them, and looks at me. I tuck my light brown hair behind my ear and jut it out for everyone to see.

Mom smiles. “They do look a bit like yours, don’t they?”

They really do. We both have a perfect curve at the top of our ears, no bumps or points or anything, and they poke out from the head just the right amount.

Mom is shaking her head like she can’t believe it, but then stops and her smile disappears. “Oh, this is ridiculous,” Mom mutters under her breath to me. “We just need to tell them.”

I shake my head and motion to Andrew. Andrew would jump at any chance to clear Ruben’s name. If we told them the truth, Moira would be kicked off her show, for sure.

My phone buzzes for what seems like the thousandth time today. I've mostly ignored it, but I hate the direction this conversation is going, so I pull it out. I don’t recognize the number.

I’m calling you right now. Please answer. I won’t have much time to talk. —Darling.

What the heck? Did someone leak my number? Who ends a text with the word darling? Shouldn’t that be at the beginning? Assuming someone would call me darling at all. Putting it at the end makes it look like a signature.

Darling.

The word jolts a memory inside me. Wendy Moira Angela Darling. It’s Moira. Garff called her darling all the time. Mom and I did too sometimes. Who would have thought we’d need our silly Peter Pan references someday so she could text me about her secret baby on Christmas?

My phone buzzes again, and this time it's her number calling. “I’m sorry, I have to take this.”

Mom raises her eyebrows and I mouth “Moira” to her. Her eyes widen and she pushes me out of the chair.

Every eye is on me as I walk out of the room.

Just before I escape the dining room, Mom clears her throat. “See, I told you Ruben isn’t the father. He's calling now.”

I spin around. Why would she say that? I told Ruben that Axley’s father was dead. My eyes meet his and I panic. “No, it isn’t, Mom.”

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