Chapter 6 - THE DNA TEST
I wanted the result immediately.
Maeve did not.
Not because she doubted.
Because she wanted the boys prepared.
Fair.
A child therapist helped explain:
The test would answer a biological question.
It would not force a new home.
It would not change their name.
It would not require them to call me Dad before they wanted.
Silas asked:
“Can blood tell if somebody loves you?”
The therapist said:
“No.”
Good.
Jonah asked:
“Can it tell if Grandma lied?”
Maeve answered:
“One part.”
Also good.
We used a court-recognized chain-of-custody laboratory.
No private swabs taken secretly.
No hair from a pillow.
No bodyguard carrying samples.
Identity verified.
Samples sealed.
Maeve consented.
I consented.
Both boys participated.
Then waiting.
Two days.
The longest forty-eight hours of my life.
During that time, I saw the boys once.
Public family-services center.
One hour.
No gifts.
No photographer.
No relatives.
Silas sat with his ankle tucked under the chair.
Jonah stared at my signet ring.
“Is that expensive?”
“Yes.”
“Can I have?”
“No.”
He shrugged.
Healthy.
Silas asked:
“Did Grandma really say you’re bad?”
Maeve looked uncomfortable.
I answered:
“She said some things about me that were not true.”
“Are you bad?”
A five-year-old asking a Ferretti man that question deserves more than branding.
“I’ve done things I regret.”
“Like what?”
“Hit Grandma.”
Silas considered.
“She chained me.”
“Yes.”
“Then why regret?”
“Because you were already free when I hit her.”
He frowned.
No immediate agreement.
That was okay.
Then:
“Did you know us?”
“No.”
“Did you want to?”
“Yes.”
Maeve looked at me.
I continued:
“I believed something false and I didn’t check it myself.”
Silas nodded as though adults failing to check paperwork was a common childhood disappointment.
Then Jonah:
“If test says yes, are you rich Dad?”
Maeve covered her face.
I almost laughed.
“Apparently.”
“Can rich Dad buy pizza?”
Maeve said:
“Not today.”
May you like
I said nothing.
Good.
