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I head downstairs, but Sean isn’t in the dining room anymore. He must have left already. I pull out my phone and begin to dial his number, but Julian’s voice interrupts me. He’s in the living room, and he’s on the phone. For the second time in ten minutes, I eavesdrop on a conversation between a Bellamy and a Cartwright.

“I’m just saying that it would be nice to know the truth. It doesn’t have to mean anything, Robert. I just want to know. Because I do, damn it! You and Mom… God, it’s like you two think you’re the only people who exist. You guys don’t get to sweep your sins under the rug. It hurts. You hurt people, both of you. You don’t get to wash your hands and spit pithy bull crap about moving on and letting go of the past. I’m not saying that I want anything from you. I just want to know if you’re my father or not.”

There’s a brief pause that ends when Julian says, “You’ll never be my dad, so don’t worry about that. Parker Bellamy was my dad. But… damn it, there doesn’t need to be a practical reason. I have a right to know. What are you so afraid of, anyway? Donna died fourteen years ago.”

There’s another brief pause. Then Julian sighs. “I thought you didn’t like Kevin with Luann. Yeah, I know. But they’re not doing anything wrong. Why would it? Who gives a shit? They’re not brother and sister. They’re the same age, and they started dating before all of this. Wait. What do you mean you didn’t know?”

There’s a longer pause now, interrupted every so often with a half-phrase from Julian. “Yeah, but…” “Okay, listen…” “Julian, come on…”

The pause ends when Julian says, “All right, you know what? Fine. Go to hell. You’re already on the hook for the sabotage. Oh, you don’t think so? Yeah, good luck with that. I’ll bet you the next time I talk to you, you’ll be in a damned jail cell.”

His tone changes slightly. "Or… Maybe you work with me on this, and I work with you on the other thing. Right now, all we have is the conversation between Kevin and Luann. It wouldn't be too hard to make that go away. Mom's crops can be replaced, and as long as you behave yourself and don't act out like a moron, this won't…" He sighs. "Okay, sure. Fine. The point is that if you do a DNA test, I'll stop pursuing you for the vandalism, terrorism, and assault. Because I want to know, damn it! There doesn't need to be a practical reason! I just need to know whose fucking DNA I'm carrying."

Another long pause, this time uninterrupted. At the end of it, Julian sighs again. “Okay. Sure. Get back to me once you’ve made up your mind. Keep in mind that you’re in the middle of a police investigation, though. I’m not going to make the cops wait while you figure out if you have the courage to do the right thing. Yeah, you first.”

He hangs up, and I back away from the door so that when he opens it, it appears that I’ve just entered the dining room. He scoffs a little when he sees me. “Hello, Mary. Join me for a drink?”

I hesitate. I wanted to talk to Sean about what I overheard Luann say, but maybe it’s better if I tell Julian. It would be betraying her confidence again, but I don’t want an innocent man to suffer for a crime he didn’t commit.

Then again, it would take Julian’s leverage away if Luann was involved in the sabotage. And I definitely don’t want her in jail. Maybe it would be better to just let things work out as they will.

That’s a question I’ll have to answer later, though.

“Very well,” I reply. “Have a seat. I’ll bring you a drink. What would you like?”

He chuckles. “I’d like to wake up six weeks ago and know about Robert and Mom before all of the bullshit escalated.”

“Well, I can’t help you with that, but I can bring you some wine.”

“Forget the wine. There’s a bottle of vodka in the cabinet above the stove. Bring me that. And whatever you want for yourself.”

I fetch the vodka and opt for a glass of the freshly bottled Riesling. I would rather not drink right now, but it would be impolite of me to refuse, so I'll nurse a single glass over the course of the conversation. Hopefully, by the end of it, I'll know if I should tell Julian about the children or keep it to myself.

Julian pours himself a double shot and downs the entire glass, then pours himself another double shot. He sips this one, thankfully, but he keeps the bottle open.

“Did you overhear the conversation I just had?”

I decide it’s prudent to lie about that, so I reply, “No. I just arrived here. I was looking for Sean.”

“He mentioned going out for the day. Something to do with his business. He said he’d be back tonight.”

“Ah. Very well.”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“He might have texted me. If it was an emergency, he might not have had time to tell me in person.”

Julian nods. “So it’s normal for people not to talk to the people they love.”

I purse my lips and sip some of my wine. He sighs. “Sorry. I’m just pissed off about the whole thing.”

He downs the rest of his vodka and pours some more. "You know, the worst part of the whole thing is that I've suspected for a while that he might be my father. We don't look much alike, I guess, but growing up, I had a lot of his mannerisms. We both have a certain swagger when we walk and a lot of smiles that look the same. Not that you would have noticed that since neither of us has had any damned reason to smile lately. And Mom…"

His voice trails off. His fingers tap on the table, and he stares at the wall. “That’s another thing that sucks. She really did love Dad. They had their ups and downs like any couple, but I remember the way she looked at him. I remember the love in her eyes. I even”—he chuckles—“I even remember them flirting with each other. She’d sneak up behind him and nibble on his ear, and he’d kiss her… Well, you don’t want to hear this. I’m sure they didn’t want me to see it. It wasn’t dirty, though. I liked seeing them be attracted to each other. It was enough to ease my doubts about my own parentage.”

He sips his vodka. “I kind of wish I looked more like Robert. Or more like Dad. As it is, Mom’s genes are so strong that I’m basically the male version of her. Anyway, I’m rambling. The point is that Mom did love Dad, so hearing all of the shit she said about him the other night really sucks. And knowing that those old doubts I had are founded, and she actually slept with him really, really sucks.” He shakes his head. “I just hate that she had to screw him right around the time I was conceived. Three months earlier or a year later, and fine, whatever, go be a slut if you want to. But… Damn it, I don’t want to have to wonder who I am at forty-three years old.”

He falls silent. After a minute, he finishes his glass and pours some more. He’s six shots in now, and these two will make eight. He’ll be drunk soon, not just buzzed but drunk, and he’s in clear emotional distress. Perhaps now is not the right time to tell him that his teenage daughter might have conspired with her boyfriend to sabotage his mother’s vineyard and framed his possible biological father for the act because she was angry that he wouldn’t let her date his business rival’s son.

I try to offer some comfort instead. “Who you are has nothing to do with them, Julian. It has nothing to do with Robert and nothing to do with your mother. It doesn’t really even have anything to do with your father. You’ve become the man you are all on your own.

“As for your mother and Robert, they’ve been incredibly selfish about all of this, but try not to judge them too harshly. Marriage is hard. Building a life with someone takes every ounce of a person’s energy, and starting that journey at such a young age is terrifying and exhausting. I believe that your mother did love your father, very much. She allowed something superficial to get in the way of that for a moment, but even then, it had far less to do with Robert and far more to do with her own fear. It was a selfish and foolish act, yes, but it doesn’t detract from the love she had for your father or for you.

“You’ll need time to be angry, of course. But I hope that when your anger fades, you’ll be able to forgive your mother, at least. She made a horrible mistake, but she shouldn’t be punished for it for the rest of her life.”

He nods. “Maybe. I just…” He lifts his hands and lets them drop. “I’m just tired of constantly putting her emotional needs above my own. That’s what it’s always been about with her, and I’m over it. Between you and me, I’m glad that the vineyard is ruined. I’m glad that her petty little vanity project is falling on its face. It’s frustrating that this is going to affect the business, but we’ll survive it. I just want her to feel for a little bit what it’s like for her needs to matter less than other people’s needs.”

I don't respond to that. We sit there for several minutes, sipping our drinks and staring past each other without making eye contact. Finally, I finish my glass of wine and stand. "Thank you for the drink, Julian. Whatever happens, I trust that you'll weather the storm."

“Oh, I will,” he says. “I’m just worried how much of me will make it out and how much will be left behind.”

I know that feeling very well. We're both shattered glasses trying to collect the memories that give us meaning, only to cut ourselves on the slivers of broken truth floating in those memories.

My thoughts move to Annie and the unopened letters in my bedroom back home in Boston. Perhaps it would be better to leave the truth behind and allow a comfortable memory to exist in its place. The truth is important, but not at the cost of so much pain.

This family is learning the truth of their past, and it’s tearing them apart. Maybe it would be better to lay the truth I now know about Luann and Kevin to rest rather than add more fuel to the fire.

But then there’s Robert to think about. He has his part to play in all of this, but he shouldn’t suffer prison time for something he didn’t do.

I need to know more before I can be confident how to act. I know only one side of this feud. It’s time I discover the other side. But I can’t talk to Robert. He’s too embroiled in the past to have a clear view of the present. I need to talk to someone focused on the present and the future.

I need to talk to Kevin.