I looked at him.
“What?”
“She knew your father.”
Douglas turned toward his son.
“Lucas.”
“What?”
“You said you weren’t going to—”
“She deserves to know.”
A silence passed between them.
“What does your mother have to do with my father?” I asked Douglas.
He sighed.
“Our parents grew up in the same town.”
“I knew that.”
“They knew each other before either of us was born.”
“I knew that too.”
Douglas looked uneasy.
“There was more to it.”
“How much more?”
Lucas answered.
“They were engaged.”
The room went silent.
I stared at him.
“My father and Douglas’s mother?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Douglas closed his eyes.
“They were nineteen.”
The coincidence almost made me dizzy.
“Nineteen,” I repeated.
“The same age we were.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“My mother broke it off.”
“Why?”
“She never told me.”
My mind raced backward through childhood memories.
Our families had always known each other.
