Chapter 8 - The first DNA appointment
A paternity test did not happen because I demanded one at midnight.
Nora was under Paige’s temporary care again with child-welfare oversight.
Leah’s death created guardianship questions.
My potential paternity created another.
Paige petitioned for temporary guardianship pending determination.
I voluntarily submitted to a court-recognized DNA test.
Nora’s guardian ad litem supported testing.
No secret drugstore swab.
No stolen hair.
No dramatic blood vial.
Cheek swabs.
Identification.
Chain of custody.
Then waiting.
I wanted the result immediately.
Instead, I received procedure.
That was probably good.
During those two weeks, I made my first major mistake after the rescue.
I told Ethan:
“She may be your sister.”
Rebecca had advised:
“Wait until testing.”
I ignored her.
Ethan had questions.
“Why she call you Daddy?”
I did not want to lie.
So I said:
“There is a chance I’m her biological father.”
Ethan stared.
“Then she’s my sister?”
“Maybe.”
He became excited.
A sister.
He drew a picture.
Dad.
Mom.
Ethan.
Nora.
Then:
“Where does Nora sleep?”
I realized what I had done.
I had turned uncertainty into a family role for a seven-year-old.
When the test result had not even returned.
Rebecca said:
“You can tell children uncertainty without assigning identity.”
I knew.
I apologized to Ethan.
“I spoke too soon.”
He frowned.
“So she’s not my sister?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“You said maybe.”
“Yes.”
“Then maybe.”
Seven-year-old logic.
Still, from then on I stopped using:
daughter.
Sister.
Family.
Until evidence.
Nora deserved the same restraint.
She had already been told something by Leah.
Maybe:
Ryan might be Daddy.
Maybe stronger.
May you like
We did not know.
Her memory after her mother’s death was fragile enough without adults filling blanks.
