Ezra
I pulled Kristen into the study and closed the door. Instead of sitting at the desk I took her to the loveseat on the other end, and pulled her down on the velvet upholstered cushion beside me.
“What’s going on, Ezra?” She asked. “You are making me really nervous.”
“I know,” I said, laying a palm on her chest. “Ive been listening to your heart beat all through dinner.”
“Then tell me! What’s happening to my daughter?”
I put an arm around her shoulders. “Do you remember there was a day I asked about your biological father?”
She jerked a little bit, like I had pinched her. “I told you, I don’t know who my father was. Even my mother didn’t know. She was raped.”
“I know,” I confessed. “Please forgive me for prying into your personal life, but I looked into your paternity. I read the
