The Family Man

Chapter 11

"I'm sorry to call you so late," Terrance said, "it's just that I was getting concerned. Mr. Papirius' history was intriguing, and I was digging a little deeper on my own."

"What are you talking about?" Eric had spent New Years with Maria and I. We waited for the ball to drop while playing Scrabble and eating apple pie. It was one of the best evenings I had in awhile. I was beginning to really like the man.

"It's his history. Well, not just his, the whole line as far back as I've looked," Terrance continued. "You see I'm kind of an amateur genealogist and I've been hacking away on Ancestry.com. I've been able to piece together five generations back, though that was difficult. Some of it is guesswork."

"Why do I care about this?" My anger was brewing. Eric was a good man, and I was feeling guilty that I checked up on him at all. I intended to let Eric tell me things at his pace, once the trust was firmly in place. Damn it, I liked being in the same room with him, and I didn't want anything to damage that. I'd rather be in the dark.

"There's no women, Natalie."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I mean there are mother's, just not living. They are there on record, but they're nothing but a blip, almost as if they were unnecessary. It's all father-son followed by father-son. Never more than one child and never a girl."

"I thought I said to drop the investigation." I almost hung up.

"I did stop investigating." Terrance exhaled loudly, "It's a hobby. Listen I'm trying to warn you. If you don't want to listen, my conscious is clear."

"Okay," I said forcing calmness, now more sure than ever that I didn't want to know anymore. Also sure that I should.

"The women, well, they all die within a month or so after the birth."

"Are you suggesting he and his family are murderers?"

"I don't know. Look, all the deaths are explainable. Heroin overdose, tuberculosis, even a case of smallpox in 1879. It's not just the coincidence of the timing of their deaths; it's the women's histories as well."

"What about it?"

"They don't have one. Orphans, each and every one as far as I can tell," Terrance sighed, "they pop onto the family tree, deliver a son and their names, and then promptly die. Something is very very wrong. I've studied many lineages, and I've never seen anything like it. You expect to see strange things as you go back in time, but this looks like it's designed."

"What do you want me to do with this? You sound like one of those crazy conspiracy theorists. Maybe it's just their lot to have horrible luck with wives. Maybe your data is wrong. Why would anyone, much less multiple generations conceive of such a thing? Where's the motive?"

"I don't know. I just felt I had to tell you. There's a whole line of conveniently dead women, and I didn't want the same thing to happen to you," Terrance said with less confidence.

"Convenient? You'd think a smart man would wait until the baby is out of diapers before doing away with the mother," I said, exasperated, "Besides, I'm not an orphan, and I already have a daughter, and you told me Eric already has a son. Even if the pattern you're imagining existed, which I doubt, I don't fit the mold."

"In my line of work, once people go wrong they don't stop," Terrance insisted. "I've shared my findings with an Italian genealogist, an online friend of mine. He's taking the line back further into Europe. I have trouble translating the foreign documents, especially those from the churches."

"All I wanted to know is if Eric was a criminal. I already feel uncomfortable I even checked. Now, you come at me with a hundred-year-old conspiracy. What do you think you'll find out by looking deeper? I'm sure if you look far enough back, I have criminal or two in my ancestry. That doesn't make me one!"