LITMIR.BIZ

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She refused to rise to the bait. This was not the time to argue over who had done the abandoning. “Think about it, Lucas. We weren’t celibate with each other, even at the lowest point in our marriage. Our sex life was irregular, yes. Inconsistent, yes. But not nonexistent. And before you start suggesting I was sleeping around, let’s just recall which one of us sought external…companionship. That was you and you know it.” She clamped her lips together, regretting her outburst. Bringing all that into it would not help her cause.

      “Maybe you just hid it better than I did.”

      Her eyes shot daggers at him, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she just opened her briefcase and pulled out an envelope. “Didn’t you ever wonder why I wanted a one-year separation before we talked divorce?”

      “That’s a good question. Since you started the whole legal thing, why didn’t you finish it? Why didn’t you file for divorce?”

      “Why didn’t you?” she snapped, her breathing rapid. “Oh, yeah, I forgot, Lucas.” She mockingly tapped her forehead. “You didn’t need to. Everything suited you just fine the way it was. You had a wife if you needed her, and other more interesting playmates for the rest of the time.”

      Dios mio, but I hate to lose control. Rachel took a deep breath, willing some calm to enter her spirit. “I did what I had to do to deal with the situation. So I went to the trouble of making it legal. I think I never filed for divorce because once we were separated, as far as I was concerned, we were divorced. It was over. Our lives were completely separate from that day on. Anyway—” she paused, trying to stick to the matter at hand “—Lucas, back to the question. Given that our marriage was finished in the day-to-day way, why do you suppose I wanted it to officially, legally continue for another year?”

      “Maybe so you could foist some other man’s child off on me,” he suggested coldly. “Get me to pay for the kid’s up-bringing. Maybe you already knew you were pregnant, knew that you had to cover yourself somehow. Maybe you thought your other man would claim you and then he backed out. How would I know what happened? I sure wouldn’t have bought this story then, if you’d brought it to me. Just like I’m not buying it now.”

      At least he wasn’t yelling anymore.

      “Fine, Lucas, we’ll play it your way. I wanted some other man’s child to have your name. Of course I did. How clever of you to figure it out.”

      Her voice fairly dripped with sarcasm. Lucas squirmed in spite of himself.

      “Is that how it’s done in the world you live in? Do people you know do such things? If so, you need to find some new friends, Lucas.” She tapped the envelope on her lap. “Now give my question a little thought. Why do you suppose I wanted an official year of separation?”

      Lucas considered the question again, thankful he could continue in the icy vein. “Well, at first I couldn’t believe you were serious about leaving, let alone that you were thinking about doing anything legal about it. I couldn’t believe you’d gone to a lawyer. I was amazed and maybe even amused by what you were doing. Later—” he cocked his eyebrow “—later, I just figured you thought I’d come back to you—you know, that I’d come to my senses eventually—and that you thought a separation would be easier to undo than a divorce.”

      He’d never thought any such thing, but he was still on the attack and the words emerged all by themselves. They sounded good to him—and they kept rolling. “Nowadays, Rachel, from my perspective, it’s convenient to be married. I mean, I’m not at risk around other women since I already have a marriage in place. I’m not the type for bigamy.”

      “Apparently, you weren’t the type for monogamy, either, Lucas,” she responded sourly, her eyes flashing.

      Ouch, Lucas thought, mentally cataloguing Rachel’s first flares of anger over the whole business. He would have expected anger before this, had always wondered at her composure. Maybe she has claws after all.

      “So,” Rachel said, “to return to the topic, how long before you realized that I intended to go on living without you?” Her sarcasm was back.

      “Several months, I guess.”

      “Did I really seem that pathetic to you? That I would cling to you that way?” The words were ripped from her. “You thought I’d take you on any terms you dished out?” She eyed him incredulously, stunned to the core.

      “Okay.” She started afresh, one deep breath later. “For the record, I asked for the separation because I wanted our child to be born legitimately. I didn’t want there to be any question about it—”

      “I’d say there are all kinds of questions about it, Rachel.”

      “Not if you agree to be tested. If you’re a match…well, it’s unusual for nonblood related individuals to match. Of course it happens, or there’d be no need for a donor registry. But I’m sure we can dig up the statistics on the likelihood, something that would at least partially satisfy you. Secondly, if you agree to be tested, you can request a DNA-based test. DNA work is what you’d really be interested in, right?” He nodded, and she continued. “Well, as I said, you can pursue that.”

      Looking down in her lap, she commented, “I brought some things for you, Lucas.”

      She began sorting the enclosures she’d dumped out of the envelope. “She is your daughter. Legally she is yours. We were still married at her birth. I named you on her birth certificate.” She placed a page on his desk in front of him. “Check the dates, Lucas. We were still together when she was conceived.” Watching him carefully, she plopped a stack of papers on his desk. “There are a lot of medical test results. Dios mio, but she’s had enough of them. But what I told you before, that she has your blood type, not mine and not a combination, is here on this report.” He opened his mouth, but she waved him off. “Sure, I could have run blood type IDs on potential lovers, choosing one who shared B-negative with you, then managed to get pregnant by him exactly during the dying moments of our marriage. But I didn’t.”

      Handing him something else, she said, “Of course, there’s also the fact that she looks like you. Her eyes are just the same as yours. Her hair—it’s not only the same color as yours, it even curls the way yours does. Mine is completely straight….” She paused, waving the photo in the air, emphasizing her point. “Her bone structure, her nose and mouth, that’s more like me. That’s her on her fourth birthday,” she was pointing at the snapshot she’d placed before Lucas. “She was diagnosed several weeks after that. She’d had symptoms for a while and I was just starting to face things. But that day, she was feeling good.”

      She smiled briefly, remembering, then sat back in her seat to wait. She knew Michaela was a lovely little girl. She had definitely inherited her father’s black hair, not her mother’s brown. She also shared his smoky-gray eyes, eyes that were nearly black at times yet had a translucent quality that Rachel had never seen on anyone else. Rachel knew that Lucas would not be able to block out the obvious resemblance.

      Michaela was a spunky, active little girl. She was curious and direct. She was quick to smile and laugh. Or at least, she had been, before her illness had begun to wear her down. Yes, in Rachel’s view, she was the most beautiful little girl in the world, but it wasn’t just her physical appearance that made her that way.

      Lucas knew the color had drained from his face, felt his breathing halt. He recognized himself in the child. How could he not see it? Still, he couldn’t accept it, couldn’t believe that he’d been a father for over four years and hadn’t had a clue. He felt humbled, although he wasn’t capable of identifying the emotion at the time. “You said we can check DNA?”

      “One of the tests used for donor type is based on DNA, so yes, you’ll be able to obtain significant information that way. I’m not sure on the details. You’ll need to talk to the doctors about it.”

      A brief silence ensued.

      “If I don’t do this, what happens to her?”

      Rachel took a shuddering

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