Free Truth Be Told by Victoria Christopher Murray Page A

Pilar, but before she could place the soup on the table, Conner said, “Take it back.” He stared at Pilar.
    Both Pilar and the waitress frowned. “What?” the waitress asked.
    His eyes roamed back to the picture. Then he looked again at Pilar. “I’ll pay, but I don’t want it.”
    Tears sprang into Pilar’s eyes.
    â€œIt’s your money,” the waitress sang. She looked at Pilar. “Do you want your salad?”
    Pilar nodded, and the waitress walked away.
    Conner was drawn back to the photo. “How old is he?”
    Pilar tried to smile through tears that threatened to fall. “Twelve.”
    Inside, Conner counted. He closed his eyes, ready to make a denial, but the truth burned his heart. How could this happen?
    Now, as he sat in his office, that question continued to haunt him. He was the father of a child by a woman who was not his wife. He couldn’t think of a greater offense. Nothing could be worse—except for what Pilar wanted him to do. He closed his eyes and remembered the rest of their conversation.
    â€œWhy are you coming to me now?” he had asked.
    â€œYou should know you have a son.” She spoke as if she were scolding him, then added, “It’s called responsibility, and I need your help with Solomon. You need to do the right thing.”
    â€œWait a minute,” he had said through clenched teeth. “Don’t tell me …”
    She hadn’t let him finish. “Conner, you have to take Solomon.” His eyes had widened, but before he could object, she added, “I have AIDS. I’m dying.”
    A moment passed before he whispered, “You’re HIV positive?”
    She had raised her eyebrows. “That’s not what I said. I have full-blown AIDS.” She paused. “You’re probably wondering how.”
    Conner bit his lip.
    â€œI’m a growing statistic. Women who have unprotected sex.” Pilar chuckled, but without humor. “I don’t sleep around. But I did it enough not to know who was responsible.” She shook her head. “Not that it matters. All I thought about when I was given my death sentence was Solomon.”
    Conner blinked. “Is he …”
    â€œNo,” she answered before he could ask. “He’s fine. Though they don’t know for sure, it seems I became infected after he was born.”
    Conner exhaled.
    â€œYou seem relieved,” she had said. “Although you’re probably clean, you should still get tested.” Pilar paused. “You don’t want to expose your wife.”
    The muscle in his jaw jumped. “I don’t have sex outside my marriage.” He was sure Pilar almost laughed. He looked away for a moment, then met Pilar’s glance. “I’m sorry … about what you’re going through. Still, if something were to happen to you, wouldn’t it be better for Solomon to be around people he knows? Others who love him?”
    Even now, he remembered the anger that flashed in her eyes. “I’m praying that you will love Solomon because without you, he will have no one.” Her voice trembled so much he thought she would cry. “The Cruises of Connecticut disowned me when I returned home with Solomon. He wasn’t even nine months, but when my parents saw him, my mother asked if the father was a Negro.” Pilar shook her head as if trying to dislodge the memory. “I told them it didn’t matter. This was their grandson. Still, they shunned me like I had leprosy.”
    Conner had not been surprised by Pilar’s words. From what she’d told him years before, her Cuban parents had fled Castro’s country when they were twenty and worked their way from the tip of Florida to the countryside of Connecticut. Her mother cleaned houses along the way, while her father landscaped many of those same estates.
    By the time they arrived in the Constitution State five years after