Chapter 7: The Conversation with Marcus
Marcus was waiting on the chapel steps when I came out.
He had taken off his jacket.
It was folded over his arm and he was looking at the gravel path, not at me, when I pushed through the door.
He looked up when he heard my footsteps.
"I'm not going to make excuses," he said.
"Good."
I sat down on the top step.
After a moment, he sat beside me.
The garden was visible from here.
Patricia had moved Emily to a bench near the low stone wall, and they were talking about something, Emily's hands moving the way they did when she was explaining something important.
"She called a stranger," I said.
"A family law advocate she found through her school's safeguarding page.
She did that because she didn't think she could come to me without ruining the wedding.
And she didn't come to you because—" I stopped.
"Because I was on Rebecca's side," Marcus said.
"Were you?"
He was quiet for a long time.
A car passed on the road beyond the chapel gate.
Somewhere in the distance, a lawnmower started.
"I thought I was on yours," he said finally.
"I thought you were struggling and too stubborn to say so, and that Rebecca was trying to do something practical about it.
I thought—" He rubbed the back of his neck.
"I thought being the one who signed made me helpful.
Useful.
Like I was doing something you couldn't do for yourself."
"And it didn't occur to you to call me."
"She said not to.
She said you'd feel undermined."
"And that made sense to you."
"It made sense in the moment.
The way she explained it." He turned to look at me.
"She's very good at that, Daniel.
Making things sound reasonable.
I've been sitting here for the last hour thinking back through every conversation I had with her and I can see it now — the way she framed everything.
Always about what was best for Emily.
Always with a reason why you couldn't be the one to decide."
"She forged my signature, Marcus."
He closed his eyes.
"On a legal document.
She told her attorney I was emotionally incapable of handling the paperwork myself.
She filed a welfare petition against me with the family court.
On Thursday.
While I was at work."
He opened his eyes.
He was looking at the garden now, at Emily on the bench.
"I didn't know any of that," he said.
"I only knew about the school."
"But you signed without asking me."
"Yes."
"That's the part I keep coming back to."
He nodded slowly.
He didn't try to move past it or explain it away, and that was the only thing that kept me sitting there beside him.
"What happens now?" he asked.
"With the petition."
"The attorney is withdrawing it Monday.
He's filing a correction with the court."
"And Rebecca?"
"That depends on what she does next."
Marcus turned to look at me directly.
"What do you mean?"
"Gerald Foss — her attorney — told me there are legal options.
For the forged signature.
For the false filing."
Marcus was very still.
"Are you going to use them?"
I didn't answer immediately.
I watched Emily stand up from the bench and walk to the wall, trailing her fingers along the top of it.
"I don't know yet," I said.
"I need to think about what's best for Emily.
A court process means more disruption.
More interviews.
More time."
"And if you don't pursue it?"
"Then Rebecca walks away from this with no consequences beyond a cancelled wedding."
Marcus was quiet.
"She used you," I said.
"She used your concern for me to get your signature on a document that would have taken my daughter away from me for three weeks, at minimum.
And then she had a backup plan ready for when it fell apart."
"I know."
"I need to know if you understand that.
Not just that you were wrong to sign.
That she used you deliberately.
That she looked at your relationship with me and found the exact angle that would work."
He was silent for a long moment.
"I understand it," he said.
"And I'm sorry, Daniel.
Not for the signing alone.
For making it easy for her.
For not calling you.
For believing that I knew better than you what your daughter needed." He looked down at his folded jacket.
"I'm sorry."
I didn't say it was fine.
It wasn't fine.
But I nodded.
Emily had spotted us from the garden.
She raised one hand in a small wave.
I raised mine back.
"She's going to be all right," Marcus said quietly.
It wasn't a question.
"She already is," I said.
"She handled this better than either of us."
Marcus let out a long breath.
"What do you need from me?"
I thought about it.
"Right now?
Nothing.
Give me some time." I stood.
"But Marcus — if Rebecca contacts you again.
About anything.
About Emily, about me, about any legal matter.
You call me first."
"Yes," he said.
"I will."
I walked down the steps toward the garden.
Behind me, I heard him say my name once more.
I turned.
"She told me Emily cried every night," he said.
"That she'd heard it through the wall when she stayed over.
That Emily was grieving and you didn't know how to help her."
I looked at him.
"Emily doesn't cry at night," I said.
"She hasn't for over a year.
We worked through it together.
She and I.
Every night for six months, we sat in the kitchen and talked about her mother until she was ready to sleep." I paused.
"Rebecca was never there for any of it."
May you like
Marcus looked at the ground.
I turned back toward the garden and walked to my daughter.
