Elizabeth tried to speak but nothing came out.
“The only decision I was able to make,” Avery Parker said, trying to bring her voice back under control, “was to ensure that all the memorial funds went toward a science education. Biology. Chemistry. Physics. Exercise, too. Calvin’s father—his biological father, I mean—was an athlete. A rower. That’s why the boys at All Saints learned to row. It was a gesture. In his honor.”
Elizabeth saw Calvin. They were in the pair, his face lit by the early morning sun. He was smiling, one hand on the oar, the other reaching for her. “That’s how he got to Cambridge,” she said as the vision slowly faded away. “On a rowing scholarship.”
Avery dropped the eraser. “I had no idea.”
* * *
—
Details slowly continued to fall into place, but something still nagged at Elizabeth.
“But…but how did you finally find out that Calvin—”
“Chemistry Today,” Parker said, slipping onto the stool next to Elizabeth’s. “The one with Calvin on the cover. I still remember that day—Wilson came rushing into my office waving it in the air. ‘You won’t believe this,’ he said. I picked up the phone right then and called the bishop. Naturally he insisted it was only a coincidence—‘Evans,’ he said. ‘It’s a very common name.’ I knew he was lying and I intended to sue—until Wilson convinced me the publicity would not only be ruinous for the foundation but embarrassing for Calvin.” She leaned back and took a deep breath before continuing. “I cut off funding immediately. Then I wrote to Calvin—several times. I explained things as best I could, asked to meet him, told him that I wanted to fund his research. I can only imagine what he thought,” she said, depressed. “Some lady writing to him out of the blue claiming to be his mother. Or maybe I do because I never heard from him.”
Elizabeth started. The Sad Mother letters bloomed again before her eyes, the signature at the bottom of each, radiating a sudden cruel clarity. Avery Parker.
“But surely if you’d arranged a meeting. Flown to California—”
Avery’s face turned ashen. “Look. It’s one thing to pursue a child with vigor. But once that child reaches adulthood, it changes. I decided to move slowly. Give him time to accept the possibility of me, research my foundation, realize I had no reason to delude him. I knew it might take years. I forced myself to be patient. But obviously,” she said, “given what happened—” She fixed her gaze on a stack of notebooks. “I was—too patient.”
“Oh dear god,” Elizabeth said, sinking her head in her hands.
“Still,” Parker continued in a monotone, “I followed his career. I thought maybe there’d be a chance, some way to help him. But as it turned out, he didn’t need my help. You did.”
“But how did you know Calvin and I were even…”
“Together?” A wistful smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. “It was all anyone could talk about,” Parker said. “From the moment Wilson set foot in Hastings, all he heard were veiled references to Calvin Evans and his scandalous affair. It’s one of the reasons why, when Wilson told Donatti he was there to fund abiogenesis, Donatti did his very best to try to steer him elsewhere. The last thing he wanted was for Calvin or anyone associated with Calvin to succeed. And then there was the fact that you were female. Donatti rightly assumed that most donors would not fund a woman.”
“But why would you, of all people, put up with that?”
“I’m almost ashamed to admit there was a part of me that enjoyed the position we put him in. He went to such great lengths to convince Wilson you were a man. But Wilson did have a plan to meet you without Donatti’s knowledge. In fact, he’d booked a flight. But then…” Her voice trailed off.
“What?”
“But then Calvin died,” she said. “And your work seemed to die with it.”
Elizabeth looked as if she’d been slapped. “Miss Parker, I was fired.”
Avery Parker sighed. “I know that now, thanks to Miss Frask. But at the time I thought you might be trying to move on. You and Calvin never married. I assumed the feelings between you and my son hadn’t been mutual. Everyone said he was a very difficult man—that he held grudges. Obviously, I had no idea you were pregnant. You were quoted in the LA Times obituary as saying you barely knew him.” She took a deep breath in. “By the way, I was there. At his funeral.”