Chapter 4 - THE BOY WHO WASN'T SUPPOSED TO EXIST
“That's impossible,” I said.
Nathan didn't move.
I stared at the photograph.
A newborn's wrist.
A pink hospital bracelet.
The faint mark above it.
Nothing about it made sense.
“You're twenty-nine,” I told him.
“Yes.”
“Emma is twenty-seven.”
“I know.”
“Then how could that baby be you?”
Nathan looked down at the blue notebook.
“Because my father kept photographs from more than one birth.”
Rebecca pressed a hand against her chest.
“Nathan, what are you saying?”
He slowly turned the photograph over.
A date was written on the back.
October 3.
The year before Emma's birth.
I stared at it.
“You've mixed up the photographs?”
Nathan nodded.
“I didn't know that until yesterday.”
Emma stepped away from him.
“Yesterday?”
He looked at her.
“Emma, I was going to tell you.”
“You told me you'd already checked everything.”
“I thought I had.”
She pulled her hand away.
For the first time, I saw something different in my daughter.
Anger.
Not fear.
“Nathan, we've been planning our wedding around a secret you couldn't even explain.”
He looked devastated.
“I was trying to make sure we weren't related.”
The words struck me.
I turned slowly.
“What?”
Nobody spoke.
“Related how?”
Nathan stared at Rebecca.
She shook her head.
“No. That's not possible.”
He held up the photograph.
“My father kept a record of children transferred through his hospital. I thought Emma might be Rebecca's missing daughter.”
“And what does that have to do with you?”
His expression tightened.
“Because Rebecca was married to my uncle.”
The room went utterly quiet.
Rebecca sank into a nearby chair.
I tried to understand.
“Your uncle?”
Nathan nodded.
“Michael Parker. My father's younger brother.”
Rebecca closed her eyes.
“I was married to Michael for four years.”
Emma looked between them.
“But you said your husband left.”
“He did,” Rebecca whispered.
Nathan spoke carefully.
“My uncle disappeared from the family before I was born. My father never spoke about him.”
I looked at Rebecca.
“So Nathan could be related to the baby you lost.”
“Yes.”
“And if that baby was Emma…”
Nathan finished the sentence.
“Emma might be my cousin.”
My daughter stepped backward.
Her bouquet slipped from her hand.
White roses scattered across the floor.
I reached for her.
But she looked straight at Nathan.
“You knew this before you proposed?”
“No.”
“When?”
“Six weeks ago.”
Her face crumpled.
“Six weeks ago?”
Nathan took a step toward her.
“Emma, we haven't done anything wrong.”
“You let me choose flowers and write vows while wondering whether I was your cousin!”
“I was trying to find out.”
“Then why didn't you tell me what you were afraid of?”
“I didn't want to lose you.”
Emma stared at him.
“That wasn't your decision to make.”
I felt an unfamiliar surge of pride through my fear.
My daughter wasn't allowing love to excuse dishonesty.
David bent to collect the flowers.
Emma stopped him.
“Leave them.”
He straightened.
She looked at her father.
“You knew Nathan was worried we might be related.”
David didn't answer.
“Dad?”
“Yes.”
“And you let us keep planning?”
“I knew you weren't related.”
The words were so firm that everyone turned toward him.
Rebecca stood.
“How?”
David looked trapped.
“Because I knew Rebecca's daughter wasn't Emma.”
I grabbed his arm.
“You've said that twice now. How could you possibly know?”
He looked into my eyes.
“Because I saw what happened.”
I felt the blood leave my face.
“What happened?”
He looked toward the empty staircase.
“Margaret brought two babies into the nursery shortly after midnight. Rebecca's daughter was one of them.”
Rebecca made a broken sound.
“You saw her?”
David nodded.
“She was alive.”
Rebecca gripped the chair.
“And you let me believe she died?”
“No. I didn't know what they told you until afterward.”
“Then why didn't you say something?”
“Because I was told there had been a serious mistake.”
Rebecca stepped toward him.
“What mistake?”
David's eyes filled.
“One that could have destroyed Laura.”
My voice trembled.
“Stop using me as your excuse.”
He looked at me.
I had spent nearly thirty years believing my husband was the most dependable person in my life.
Now he looked like a stranger wearing David's face.
“You want to know what happened?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He took a long breath.
“Emma wasn't breathing when she was born.”
My knees almost buckled.
I remembered pain.
Someone shouting.
A bright light.
Then nothing.
David continued.
“The doctors worked on her. They got her breathing again.”
I looked at my daughter.
She stood perfectly still.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because you were in surgery. You lost a lot of blood.”
That much I remembered.
I'd been told there had been complications.
But nothing about Emma.
David continued.
“Margaret told me both babies were being monitored. She said there had been a paperwork error with the identification bracelets.”
Rebecca whispered, “Both babies?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
He swallowed.
“She told me Rebecca's daughter had been moved for observation.”
Rebecca stared at him.
“Observation where?”
“I wasn't told.”
“Then what happened?”
David reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket.
He removed a small silver pocket watch.
I recognized it immediately.
His father's watch.
He'd carried it to every important family occasion.
Graduations.
Anniversaries.
Emma's first school play.
He opened the back.
Inside was a tiny folded strip of paper.
I had never known there was space beneath the cover.
David carefully removed it.
“Margaret gave me this the day we brought Emma home.”
I stared.
“You've carried it for twenty-eight years?”
He nodded.
“Why?”
He handed it to me.
The paper was brittle.
Four words were written in faded blue ink.
Ask about Baby Elliot.
Below them was a date.
And a room number.
214\.
Rebecca covered her mouth.
“Why would she give you that?”
David's voice barely carried.
“She said if anyone ever questioned Emma's birth, I should remember that another mother had suffered too.”
I looked at him.
“And you thought that meant you should stay silent?”
He bowed his head.
“I thought it meant there had been an accident.”
Rebecca looked furious.
“An accident doesn't explain why I was told my baby died.”
“No,” Nathan said quietly. “It doesn't.”
He opened the notebook to another page.
“This is what my father recorded three days after Emma's birth.”
He showed us a hospital accounting entry.
A large payment had been made from a private charitable fund.
The recipient was listed only as R.E.
Rebecca stared.
“I never received any money.”
Nathan looked uneasy.
“There's a signature acknowledging it.”
He turned the notebook toward her.
She took one glance.
Then laughed bitterly.
“Michael.”
I looked at her.
“Your husband?”
She nodded.
“He signed for it.”
Nathan's expression changed.
“My uncle left the country a week after that payment.”
Rebecca covered her face.
I looked toward Emma.
She was leaning against the wall, staring at nothing.
I wanted to hold her.
But she suddenly looked at Nathan.
“If my father knew we weren't related, why didn't he just tell you?”
Nathan didn't answer.
I turned to David.
“David?”
He was staring at the notebook.
Then he spoke.
“Because I didn't know Nathan was Michael Parker's nephew.”
Rebecca looked up.
“That's not true.”
David froze.
She pointed at the pocket watch.
“You knew exactly who Michael was.”
“What are you talking about?”
Rebecca's voice hardened.
“Michael owned that watch before your father did.”
I looked at the silver watch in David's hand.
My husband shook his head.
“No.”
Rebecca stepped closer.
“Turn it over.”
David hesitated.
Then slowly flipped it.
Rebecca pointed to a tiny engraving near the hinge.
Three letters.
M.J.P.
Michael James Parker.
I felt my stomach drop.
Rebecca looked at me.
“Laura, your husband didn't meet my family by accident.”
May you like
Then she faced David.
“Tell her why Michael gave you that watch the night our daughter disappeared.”
