Trying to keep his shock under control, Isaac gritted his teeth as he watched his daughter play with his brother.
   Shaking his head, he still couldn't believe the results. His daughter. Zoë. His daughter, Zoë.
   The chant ran through his mind like some sacred mantra. It was like the Chinese water torture, hell bent to make him crazy.
   Fastidiously, Isaac gripped tightly onto his sanity. Stepping away from the window, he went in search of his father. Certain he would find him in the den the family used as an office on occasion.
   His knuckles rapped incessantly on the white painted door, and when given permission to enter, he flipped the sign on the door over. "Private business. Please wait." Now that he knew there would be no interruptions, he opened the door and slipped inside quietly.
   Thankful that no one would stop this conversation, Isaac watched his father for a moment in furious silence.
   When Mr. Hanson looked up from his books in front of him, he could already guess what this meeting was about. Closing the text slowly, he pushed it away and settled back in his seat. "You may as well flip the sign over on the door, Ike. Just in case."
   Isaac felt his control slowly start slipping before he sat down. "I already did."
   Nodding, he checked his watch, then looked up at his oldest son. "I did what I thought was best, Ike."
   He was out of his seat in a second. "What you thought was best, Dad? Home come I didn't even know about it? Does mom? Or anyone else?"
   Settling sharp eyes on his child, Mr. Hanson steeled himself. "Sit down, Ike, and I will explain."
   When he balked, Mr. Hanson repeated his demand and it was finally met. "Your mother does not know, I didn't even know that Emma did, and I didn't want to tell you. You were still promoting 'Middle of Nowhere', remember that? When we came home at Christmas and you couldn't even begin to think about staying in a permanent relationship because of all the running around we all were doing."
   Isaac could feel the strong urge to deny that statement, but couldn't force it past his lips. He remembered making that comment. How insidiously drained they had all become. The long grueling hours they were subjected to, and all the travelling that kept them going constantly.
   "We loved it though. And I could have handled it." He glanced up at his father. "It would have been extremely difficult, I know. But I could have done it!"
   Mr. Hanson shook his head. "Your mother went into false labor that time after Christmas. Remember?"
   Isaac nodded slowly, unsure of what this new twist was supposed to mean. Or if it was just a ploy to waste time, or simply stall for it.
   "We knew then. The doctor and I, that there was something wrong with the baby. Your mother was worried, she hadn't felt it kick recently and it disturbed her greatly. The doctor convinced her she was fine, she would be okay, and that the baby was perfectly healthy."
   Isaac watched the aging his father did as he retold this story. "I knew about Emma and her baby by then, knew that she wasn't even someone you really remembered, because she wasn't even sure if she remembered you. To tell the truth, I don't think she did. It was the doctor, that put two and two together."
   He shook his head, "Emma had her baby, and when your mother had hers… we switched them. We knew Zoë would look like one of us, you were her father! So of course she would look like us! No one would ever know or find out."
   Isaac saw the wariness, even felt it in himself. "Like you said, Dad, I was her father. And I never knew, nor was given the chance to be that. You stole that from me. Your own son."
   His father nodded with great reluctance and regret. "What happened to mom's baby, Dad?"
   Turning his chair around, so he could no longer face his son, Mr. Hanson choked out. "He died, Isaac. He was dying long before he was even born."