“Your father misses you terribly,” she said to open a conversation with him. “After all those years of living together, it must be a big change for you too, to be away from him.” Michael looked up from his sausages and stared at her blankly, but didn’t comment. “I’m sure all those years alone with each other made you very close.” It was a little awkward talking to him, and Michael was pleasant and polite with her, but not really chatty. She wondered if mother figures made him uncomfortable, since he hadn’t had one, which made her sad for him. “Your father has told me how much fun it was when you two lived in London and New York.” She was struggling for conversation, as Michael sat back in his chair and looked Hope in the eye.

He summed it up in one sentence for her. “I didn’t grow up with my father.” He didn’t sound angry when he said it, or disappointed. He said it as simple fact, and Hope was stunned.

“You didn’t? I… he told me… I’m sorry. I must have misunderstood.” She felt as though she sounded like a moron, and she did. Michael looked unconcerned.

“My father says a lot of things that sound good to him at the time, or make him look good. He rewrites history, like in his books. He gets confused between fact and fiction. It’s just the way he is,” he said without condemnation, but it was an incredibly damning statement about Finn, and Hope didn’t know what to say in response, nor what to think.

“I’m sure I’m the one who’s confused,” she said, backing down in a panic. But they both knew she was covering up the awkward moment and making excuses for Finn.

“No, you’re not,” Michael said, as he finished his sausage. “I grew up with my grandparents in California. I hardly ever saw my father until I went to college.” That was only two years before, and that meant that their years together in London and New York were a lie, or a fabrication, or wishful thinking, or something. She didn’t understand, and tried not to let Michael see how upset she was. “I know my father cares about me, and he wants to make it up to me now, but we’ve been strangers for most of my life, and in some ways we still are.”

“I’m sorry,” Hope said, looking devastated. “I didn’t mean to bring up a painful subject.” She felt terrible, but the boy across the table from her didn’t even look upset. He was used to Finn with all his quirks, and apparently telling stories was one of them, according to his son.

“That’s why he’s such a good writer. I think he actually believes the stuff he says, once he says it. From that moment on, it’s true for him. It’s just not true for anyone else.” He was amazingly understanding about it, and Hope couldn’t help thinking that his grandparents had done a good job with him. He was a healthy, whole, sane, well-balanced young man, not because of Finn, as it turned out, but in spite of him.

“I assume these were your mother’s parents?” She decided to check that out, and he nodded. “Your mother died?”

“When I was seven,” he confirmed, fairly unemotionally, which surprised her. At least that much was true, but the rest of his childhood was a fantasy of Finn’s. And then she thought of something.

“If you don’t mind, Michael, I hate secrets, but I think this would be embarrassing for your dad. I’d rather we not tell him we had this conversation. I don’t want him to be upset at you for telling me.” But she was extremely upset herself, with good reason. It was a very important subject to lie about, the entire youth and childhood of his son, and his relationship with him. She wondered why Finn had done it, and had no idea how she’d ever broach the subject with him. She didn’t want him to feel cornered, but she knew that at some point, they’d have to clear it up. But Michael nodded easily at her suggestion.

“This isn’t the first time it’s happened,” he said simply. “My father usually tells people I grew up with him. I think it’s embarrassing for him to admit I didn’t, and he never saw me, or not often.” She agreed with him, but still, it was disturbing. “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine. I won’t say anything to him.” And almost as soon as he had said the words, Finn walked in with a broad smile. In spite of herself, Hope found herself staring at him, and then roused herself from her reverie and stood up to kiss him, but it didn’t feel quite the same. She knew now that he had lied to her, and nothing would be comfortable between them until he told her why.

The three of them went to the local pub for dinner that night, and over beer Finn said something about he and Hope planning to get married sometime. Michael nodded and seemed pleased for them in a remote way. He thought Hope was a nice woman, and he didn’t have a lot invested in his relationship with Finn, or her, and now she knew why. Finn and his son hardly knew each other, if what Michael said was true. And she had no reason to disbelieve it, it had the ring of truth when he said it. One of them was lying, and she had the sinking feeling it was Finn.

He didn’t invite his son to the wedding, or even say there was one planned, and for the moment, there wasn’t. But Hope had wanted a small ceremony, attended by their closest friends, and surely Finn’s son. She realized then that Finn really wanted to do it alone, just as he had said. That sounded sad to her, but she didn’t comment. She had very little to say that night, and she and Michael avoided looking at each other. She hugged him the next day before he left, and thanked him for coming to see them.

“I hope you come back to visit us anytime,” she said, and meant it.

“I will,” Michael said politely, and thanked her for the hospitality. Finn drove him to the airport then, and she realized how strange his visit had been. It did have the feeling of strangers or casual acquaintances getting together, and not father and son. Given what Michael had told her the day before, she was surprised that he came at all.

She was still thinking about it when Finn came back from the airport, and she looked at him strangely. Finn picked up on it and asked her what was wrong. She was about to say nothing, and then decided to be honest with him. She felt she had no other choice. She needed to know why he had told her the story he had. If she was going to spend the rest of her life with him, she had to know and believe that he was telling her the truth, and he hadn’t.

“I’m sorry…,” she said, apologizing in advance, “I hate to bring this up, and I don’t want to get Michael in trouble. We were talking yesterday and I said how much you loved him, and how much it meant to you that he grew up alone with you.” She took a breath and went on. “And he told me he grew up with his mother’s parents in California. Why didn’t you tell me that before?” She looked into Finn’s eyes, and he looked immediately sad.

“I know. I lied to you, Hope.” He came right out and admitted it, without stalling or hesitating. “I felt terrible about it. I can tell from all your stories about Mimi what a wonderful mother you were to her. I didn’t think that you would understand that I had given my son to my ex-wife’s parents. I tried to take care of him,” he said, as he sat down with his head in his hands. They were outside, and he was sitting on the stump of the tree that had fallen, and then he looked up at her. “I just couldn’t do it. I wasn’t up to it, and I knew I wasn’t enough for him. They were good people and they loved him, so I let them take him. They were threatening to take me to court at the time, for their daughter’s son, and I just didn’t want to go through that and fight them, or put Michael through it, so I let him live with them. It was agony for me, but in the long run, I think it was better for him. He’s a great kid. They did a good job.” He looked up at her miserably then. “I thought if I told you that, you’d think less of me, and I didn’t want that to happen.” He reached up and put his arms around her waist and drew her to him, as she looked down at him, in sadness for him. “I just wanted you to love me, Hope, not disapprove of me.” He choked on a sob as he said it, and a tear rolled down his cheek. She felt terrible for him.

“I’m sorry,” she said, holding him close to her. “You don’t have to win my approval. I love you. You can tell me whatever the truth is. It would have been hard for you to bring up a child all alone.” Others had done it, but she could see how difficult it might have been for him. And she felt bad that he had felt he had to lie to her so she would love him. “I love you, whatever you’ve done. Believe me, I’ve made my share of mistakes too.”

“I don’t think so,” he said, holding her tightly, his face pressed against her stomach, and then he remembered something, and looked into her eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to be ovulating today?” She laughed, he never seemed to lose track of her cycle now, but she could better understand his desperation for a baby. He had missed all of Michael’s childhood, and after what he had just said to her, she could forgive him for lying about it. Particularly since he was so remorseful once she knew the truth.

“Will you promise me something?” Hope said, and he looked at her intently. “Whatever the truth is, just tell me. The truth is never as bad as a lie.” He nodded. “A lie can unravel the whole tapestry of a relationship. The truth only hurts for a minute.”

“I know. You’re right. I believe that too. It was cowardly of me.” He had lied to her twice now, once about owning the house, and now about bringing up Michael, and both times because he was embarrassed by the truth. She couldn’t understand it. But she felt much better having talked to him about it. He was easy to forgive, and she loved him, clay feet and all.

He stood up then, put his arms around her and held her, and then he kissed her, and then asked her about ovulating again.

“I don’t know, you tell me. You seem to know better than I do. I always lose track. Maybe we should just wait until we’re married. It’s only a few months.” She was still disappointed that he hadn’t invited Michael to the wedding, and wanted to get married alone. She had promised Mark Webber he could come, and he would be sad if he couldn’t, and she would too.