Chapter 6 - THE LITTLE GIRL NAMED SOPHIE
“She lived,” Rebecca repeated.
Her fingers shook so badly that I took the photograph before it slipped from her hand.
The little girl in the picture wore a red sweater and stood beside a Christmas tree decorated with paper stars.
One front tooth was missing.
Her smile was enormous.
I looked at Rebecca.
“Do you recognize her?”
She shook her head, crying.
“No. But the necklace…”
She pointed to the small silver heart resting against the girl's sweater.
“My mother wore that necklace for forty years. She gave it to me when I got married.”
David looked at the photograph.
“Michael had it?”
Rebecca nodded.
“I gave it to him the day I went into labor. I asked him to keep it safe.”
Nathan sat heavily in his father's chair.
“I remember seeing this picture.”
Emma turned toward him.
“When?”
“When I was little.”
He studied the girl's face.
“My father had it in a silver frame. He told me she was a distant cousin.”
Rebecca covered her mouth.
“A cousin?”
Nathan nodded slowly.
“I asked if she ever visited. He said she lived too far away.”
I felt another wave of anger.
“How many people knew about this child?”
Nobody answered.
I turned toward David.
“Did you?”
He shook his head.
“I knew Michael left with a baby. I didn't know where he went.”
Rebecca stared at him.
“You knew my daughter was alive.”
“I knew a baby was alive. I didn't know whether it was yours.”
“You could have told me.”
David looked ashamed.
“Yes.”
That one word seemed to cost him everything.
But it didn't cost him nearly as much as his silence had cost Rebecca.
She sank into a chair.
“I held a funeral.”
Nobody spoke.
“My mother bought a little white dress. We had an empty casket because the hospital said there had been complications with releasing the remains.”
Her voice cracked.
“I visited that grave every November.”
I had no words.
What could I possibly say to a woman who had spent twenty-eight years grieving a living child?
I sat beside her.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then I placed my hand over hers.
“Rebecca, we're going to find out what happened to Sophie.”
She looked at me.
“You don't owe me anything.”
“Yes,” I said. “I do.”
She shook her head.
“No. Your husband owes me the truth. You didn't know.”
I thought about that.
For almost thirty years, I had believed David and I shared everything.
Our mortgage.
Our worries.
Our daughter's milestones.
The nights we sat beside Emma's bed when she was sick.
The mornings we celebrated her achievements.
Now I wondered how much of that life had been built beside a secret.
Nathan unfolded an old map from the box.
“There's an address in Columbus.”
Emma leaned over his shoulder.
“Is it still there?”
“I don't know.”
He opened another folder.
“This looks like a forwarding record.”
The paper listed three addresses.
Columbus, Ohio.
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
Then Lancaster, Pennsylvania.
The last entry was dated thirteen years earlier.
Rebecca stared.
“Lancaster?”
Nathan nodded.
“Less than two hours away.”
She covered her face.
“My daughter could have been living two hours from me.”
Emma reached across the desk.
“Rebecca…”
Rebecca looked up.
And I saw something pass between them.
Not recognition.
Not the sudden miracle of discovering a biological bond.
Just two women acknowledging each other's pain.
Emma took Rebecca's hand.
“We should check the records carefully before we go anywhere.”
I felt proud of her.
Even with her own wedding ruined, she was thinking clearly.
Nathan nodded.
“My father kept copies of correspondence. There may be something more recent.”
He searched the bottom of the box.
Then stopped.
“What is it?” Emma asked.
He lifted a thick envelope.
His expression changed.
“This is addressed to me.”
He opened it.
Inside was a letter.
He began reading silently.
Then lowered himself into the chair.
Emma looked frightened.
“Nathan?”
He didn't answer.
I stepped closer.
“What does it say?”
Nathan handed me the letter.
The handwriting was uneven.
His father must have been very ill when he wrote it.
Son, there is a reason I asked you never to open the blue notebook.
I made decisions that harmed people who trusted our hospital.
I told myself I was protecting families.
What I protected was my own reputation.
If Rebecca Ellis ever comes looking for the girl, you must tell her the truth.
I stopped reading.
Nathan stared at the floor.
“Keep going,” he said.
I swallowed.
Michael did not steal Rebecca's daughter.
My breath caught.
I looked up.
Rebecca was frozen.
I continued.
He believed he was rescuing her.
David stepped forward.
“That's what Michael told me.”
Rebecca turned toward him.
“Rescuing her from whom?”
David shook his head.
“I never knew.”
I looked down again.
The baby's records were altered because someone feared that her father would find her.
Rebecca stared.
“Michael was her father.”
Nathan shook his head slowly.
“Maybe not.”
Rebecca looked at him.
“What?”
He pointed to the letter.
“My father wrote that Michael discovered the truth after the delivery.”
I continued reading.
Rebecca was never told why her child was moved. Michael agreed to the transfer because he believed the child was in immediate danger.
But the danger did not come from Rebecca.
The words made my skin prickle.
I looked at Rebecca.
She seemed unable to breathe.
“Who would want to hurt a newborn?” she whispered.
Nathan took the letter.
“There has to be more.”
He unfolded the second page.
Then his face changed.
“Oh, no.”
Emma touched his shoulder.
“What?”
He looked toward David.
“My father named the person.”
I turned.
“Who?”
Nathan read aloud.
The man who threatened the child was Harold Mitchell.
My father's name.
I stared at the page.
“That isn't possible.”
David looked devastated.
“Laura…”
I turned toward him.
“My father?”
He didn't answer.
My father had died twelve years earlier.
He had been a stern, difficult man.
He believed family reputation mattered more than almost anything.
But he'd loved Emma.
He'd taught her to ride a bicycle.
He'd taken her fishing.
He'd cried at her high school graduation.
I shook my head.
“No.”
Nathan continued reading.
Harold discovered that Rebecca's child could expose a financial arrangement involving his company and Michael Parker. He demanded the hospital keep the family connection hidden.
Rebecca looked bewildered.
“What financial arrangement?”
I thought back to my childhood.
My father owned a construction business.
He had always complained about Michael Parker's family.
Called them unreliable.
Said they owed him money.
Then I remembered something I hadn't thought about in years.
When Emma was born, my father had insisted on paying for our hospital bills.
He'd even arranged a private room.
I had thought he was being generous.
Now I wasn't sure.
David sat down.
“I knew your father spoke to Robert Parker,” he admitted.
I turned on him.
“You knew?”
“I didn't know what he said.”
“You knew enough to hide Rebecca's letter.”
His shoulders sagged.
“Yes.”
Rebecca stared at the page.
“Harold Mitchell knew about my daughter?”
Nathan nodded.
“According to this letter.”
She looked at me.
“Laura, did your father know Michael?”
I nodded slowly.
“Yes.”
“How?”
I closed my eyes.
“My father lent money to the company Michael worked for.”
Rebecca whispered, “What company?”
I swallowed.
“Mitchell Building Supply.”
David looked up sharply.
Rebecca's expression changed.
“That's impossible.”
“Why?”
She reached into her purse and removed a photograph.
It showed Michael standing outside a warehouse.
A business sign hung above the door.
MITCHELL BUILDING SUPPLY.
Rebecca touched the picture.
“Michael didn't work for your father.”
She looked directly at me.
“He was your father's business partner.”
Before I could answer, Emma picked up the second page of Nathan's father's letter.
“Mom?”
I turned.
Her face had gone white.
“There's something written at the bottom.”
She showed me the page.
One final paragraph.
Laura Mitchell was never supposed to know that her father arranged for Sophie to be removed.
I stared at the words.
May you like
Then Emma continued reading.
Because Harold had already chosen which granddaughter he intended to keep.
