First, there was Doctor Graves.

He only lived ten minutes away, and he arrived in about that time, striding in through the front door without knocking, asking Leon brisk questions as they hurried to Tel’s bedroom. Was Tel having trouble breathing? Could he speak? Was he aware of his surroundings? Once at Tel’s bedside he sent everyone out of the room except Felicia.

Tel opened his eyes.

“What’s the problem, old man?” asked Graves quietly, as he bent to look closely into Tel’s face.

“He seems to have had a severe emotional shock,” Dr. Graves told Leon and Marion when he emerged an hour and a half later. “You did right to keep him warm, elevate his legs. Your mother is giving him some water. His heartbeat and temperature are back to normal now, and he’s sitting up and talking but don’t let him get up and wander. He’s stable now, so I’ve given him a mild sedative and he should sleep through the night once he drops off. Talk to him when he feels like it, but make sure he doesn’t overdo it.”

The doctor frowned. “I’m a little concerned because he appears to be somewhat confused, but I’ve seen that when someone, especially a parent, gets terrible news. And your mother… You both need to watch her. She’s not herself, not the Felicia I know. Marion, would you go in and help her with your father-in-law? Let Felicia finish giving him his drink, but then try to convince her to lie down for a bit. Both of them should sleep.”

Marion nodded, and hurried down the hall to the bedroom.

Doctor Graves turned towards Leon, his eyes suddenly very keen. “Is there someplace private where we could talk?”

Since the women were busy upstairs, the first floor parlor seemed the best place.

“Son, I’m going to need to talk to you man-to-man. I assume you read that note from Schoolmeester?”

Leon nodded.

“Does your father’s reaction to it make any sense to you? Any at all? Have you ever heard the name Lamont Duday before?”

“No. Never.”

“I asked your mother. I didn’t want to but I did. She wouldn’t answer. All I got was silence. Nothing. That’s not like her, that’s not like her at all. I think it’s fair to say I’m almost as worried about her as I am about him. But about your father — Tel kept insisting I must remember this person. The man was in tears. ‘You delivered him,’ he kept saying. ‘You must have loved him too. You must remember him.'”

“Leon, I have absolutely no memory of delivering any child of Tel’s other than your sister and you.”

“Do you think Papa has had a stroke?”

“I see no physical signs of that. But — this is why I want to talk to you privately, and why I’m hoping you’ll be the good son I am sure you can be. It is possible that I did deliver another child of Tel’s.”

“Families have secrets, son. Men… Well, you were overseas. I don’t think I need to tell you about men, or remind you that your father is a man. Perhaps your father made a mistake. Many husbands who are otherwise loving do. I deliver so many babies on this island, often to women who have husbands who are ‘traveling,’ as they put it, or who claim to be widows when they are not. And who’s to say he’s not just mixed up? Dr. Teach was still treating your uncle’s family. Maybe Teach delivered the child and Tel’s forgotten that. Your father might have thought there’d be a bit more secrecy that way. Do you get my drift?”

“Yes, doctor, I think I do.”

“If there’s one thing I know about Telesphore Duday, it’s that he’s a good, attentive father, maybe even a little over-protective. If what I suspect happened, I can’t imagine him turning his back on a son.”

Leon stepped away. He was struggling to remember something he’d heard ago, a story either Greg or Laurette had told him after he’d changed. God, his brain had been shot to hell back then. Listening, concentrating, retaining things had been so hard.

“He’s still your father, Leon,” Dr. Graves was saying. “And he needs you now, more than ever. I hope, I very much hope you can forgive him, you can try to be understanding…”

Leon turned to face Graves. “He is my father and I love him, no matter what. All I want is for him to recover. Doctor, do you have any records that could tell us anything? This person… Whatever mistakes Papa made, Lamont Duday could be my brother. If he’s died doing his job as a reporter covering the war he should be acknowledged.”

Graves sighed. “The Town Hall fire fourteen years ago put paid to that. Birth records, census records, legal papers… It’s a mess. Any answers you might have found in public documents went up in smoke back then. I’m sorry, Leon, but my advice is to focus on the here and now. That’s your best hope.”

Papa was sleeping, snoring faintly but steadily. Mama also slept close by, after Marion pulled out the truckle bed and made it up for her. Leon tried to get Marion to go to sleep in their room, but she insisted on spending the night in the chair next to the bed. “They might need me,” she told him.

She had been very quiet and white-faced since his father’s collapse and Leon was a little worried about her. “Let me stay here and watch them,” he said. “I’m used to being awake all night. Seriously, Mouse, it won’t bother me a bit.”

But she shook her head and smiled sadly, patting his cheek. “I’d rather be with them,” she said. “I don’t think I’d be able to sleep anyway.”

He kissed her, and stepped out into the hallway.

He stopped.

He counted the doors.

There was the large bedroom he’d just left, where his parents slept. There was Papa’s study. There was the sewing room. There was the bedroom he and Marion shared. There was the guest bedroom.

And there was the room near the end of the hall.

That room was…

He drew a blank. A very strange blank.

They had one spare room, the room for guests. He remembered that. He knew that. And yet there was, by his count, now two spare rooms.

Leon walked down the corridor to the room near the end. He stopped at the extra door.

He bent and listened.

Silence.

Feeling a little foolish, he opened the door.

He stepped in and closed the door behind him.