Chapter 7 - THE GRANDFATHER WHO CHOSE ONE CHILD
“Which granddaughter he intended to keep?”
I could barely get the words out.
Emma stared at the letter.
Rebecca gripped the arms of her chair.
David closed his eyes.
Nathan looked as though he wanted to tear the page apart.
I turned toward my husband.
“Tell me my father didn't know Rebecca's child was alive.”
David swallowed.
“He knew.”
I felt something inside me break.
“All these years?”
“Yes.”
I looked at the photograph of Sophie.
The little girl with the missing tooth.
The silver necklace.
The smile.
Then at Emma.
My own daughter.
The granddaughter my father had spoiled every Christmas.
I remembered him refusing to miss a single birthday.
I remembered him buying Emma a bicycle when she turned seven.
I remembered the way he'd told anyone who would listen that she was the brightest little girl in Pennsylvania.
And now I wondered what he had meant when he'd called her his only granddaughter.
“Why would he do this?” I whispered.
David stared at the floor.
“Because he thought he was protecting you.”
I almost screamed.
“Stop saying that!”
My voice echoed through Nathan's study.
Everyone froze.
I stepped closer to David.
“You've used those words every time you couldn't defend what you did.”
He looked at me.
I was shaking.
“My father was protecting me. You were protecting Emma. Nathan was protecting the wedding.”
I pointed toward Rebecca.
“And somehow, every person you protected got to keep living their lives while this woman buried a daughter who wasn't dead.”
David didn't answer.
“Don't you ever call that protection again.”
He nodded slowly.
“You're right.”
I turned away before I could see him cry.
Nathan carefully folded the letter.
“There's more we need to understand.”
Rebecca looked exhausted.
“I don't know how much more I can take.”
I sat beside her.
“You don't have to do anything today.”
She shook her head.
“I've waited twenty-eight years.”
Then she looked at Nathan.
“Please.”
He nodded.
“My father left a record of an arrangement between Michael, Harold Mitchell, and the hospital.”
He spread three receipts across the desk.
One showed a payment from Mitchell Building Supply to a hospital emergency fund.
Another showed money transferred to an account controlled by Michael Parker.
The third was a handwritten acknowledgment from Harold.
I recognized my father's signature immediately.
Unlike the forged one on the hospital form, this was unmistakable.
Nathan read the note.
All outstanding obligations are discharged upon relocation of the child.
Rebecca stared.
“He paid Michael?”
Nathan nodded.
“But the money didn't go directly to him. It went into a trust.”
I looked at him.
“For the baby?”
“That's what it appears to be.”
Rebecca pressed a hand against her mouth.
“Then someone was paying to keep her hidden.”
David looked up.
“Harold told me Michael had agreed to take the baby away.”
I turned.
“You knew that?”
“I was told there was a family dispute.”
“Whose family?”
He hesitated.
“Your father's.”
I felt cold.
“My father had a dispute with Rebecca?”
David shook his head.
“Not Rebecca. Michael.”
Nathan opened another page.
“This is where things become complicated.”
He turned the notebook toward us.
A list of names appeared beside various payments.
Harold Mitchell.
Michael Parker.
Robert Parker.
And one name I hadn't expected.
Elaine Mitchell.
My mother.
I stared at it.
“No.”
Emma stepped closer.
“Grandma?”
I nodded numbly.
My mother was seventy-six.
She lived in a retirement community outside Philadelphia.
She still baked Christmas cookies.
Still called Emma every Sunday.
Still sent David birthday cards even though she complained he never dressed warmly enough.
“Why is my mother's name there?” I asked.
Nathan examined the entry.
“It says she received reimbursement for travel expenses.”
Rebecca leaned closer.
“What travel expenses?”
Nathan read the details.
“Lancaster. Pittsburgh. Columbus.”
The same cities where Sophie had supposedly lived.
My heart began pounding.
“My mother knew where she was.”
David looked stunned.
“I didn't know that.”
I turned toward him.
“For once, I believe you.”
Emma sat down.
“Grandma knew?”
Nathan nodded.
“Maybe she was helping Sophie.”
I thought about my mother.
She had always been gentler than my father.
When he raised his voice, she changed the subject.
When he made decisions, she tried to soften the consequences.
But she rarely opposed him openly.
Suddenly, I remembered something.
When Emma was seven, my mother had begun taking occasional trips to Ohio.
She said she was visiting an old college friend.
My father always grew irritated whenever she mentioned those visits.
He called them unnecessary.
I never questioned it.
I looked at Nathan.
“Do you have a photograph of my mother from around that time?”
Emma opened her phone.
She found one from an old family album we'd scanned for my mother's seventy-fifth birthday.
Grandma Elaine stood beside seven-year-old Emma at a birthday party.
I held the picture next to Sophie's Christmas photograph.
My breath caught.
Both girls wore identical silver heart necklaces.
Rebecca noticed first.
She pressed her hand against her mouth.
“That necklace…”
I looked closer.
Emma's necklace had been a birthday gift from Grandma Elaine.
She'd lost it years ago.
Or so I'd believed.
Emma touched her throat.
“I remember that necklace.”
I looked at her.
“Grandma gave it to you.”
She nodded.
“She said it was important.”
Rebecca took the photographs.
For a long time, she studied them.
Then she whispered, “They're not identical.”
I leaned closer.
“What?”
She pointed at Sophie's necklace.
“Look at the engraving.”
The little heart had a tiny letter S on its surface.
Emma's had an E.
Rebecca stared at me.
“My mother had two of those necklaces made.”
My skin prickled.
“Why?”
She swallowed.
“One for each granddaughter she hoped to have someday.”
I looked at her.
“Your mother?”
Rebecca nodded.
“She knew Michael had a brother. She used to joke that one day we'd have a house full of children.”
I tried to understand.
“Then how did my mother get them?”
Rebecca looked at Nathan.
“Maybe Michael gave them to Elaine.”
Nathan nodded.
“Or Elaine knew more than we've realized.”
Emma stood suddenly.
“Then we need to ask her.”
I looked at my daughter.
“Emma, today was supposed to be your wedding.”
She gave a sad smile.
“I know, Mom.”
She looked toward Nathan.
“But I don't think we can move forward until we understand where we came from.”
Nathan nodded.
“I'll drive.”
David reached for his coat.
I stopped him.
“No.”
He looked at me.
“Laura…”
“You can come. But you're not going to speak for my mother or for me.”
He nodded.
We drove to Elaine's retirement community in two cars.
Emma sat with me.
Nathan drove Rebecca.
David followed separately.
My mother was in the garden when we arrived.
She wore a blue cardigan and was pruning yellow roses.
When she saw Emma in her wedding dress, she smiled.
“Oh, honey! Did you decide to visit before the reception?”
Then she noticed Rebecca.
The pruning shears slipped from her hand.
Her face went white.
“Rebecca?”
Rebecca stopped walking.
“You know me?”
My mother gripped the garden table.
“Oh, dear God.”
I approached her.
“Mom, we need to talk.”
She looked at David.
Then Nathan.
Finally, she looked at Emma.
Tears filled her eyes.
“I always wondered when this day would come.”
Rebecca stepped forward.
“Where is my daughter?”
My mother began crying.
“Rebecca, I'm so sorry.”
“Where is she?”
Elaine reached into the pocket of her cardigan.
She removed a small silver heart necklace.
It had the letter S engraved on the front.
Rebecca gasped.
My mother held it against her chest.
“She gave this back to me last Christmas.”
I stared at her.
“You saw Sophie last Christmas?”
Elaine nodded.
“Every Christmas.”
Rebecca began trembling.
“Where is she?”
My mother looked at Emma.
Then she said something that made every one of us stop breathing.
“Sophie was at your bridal shower, sweetheart.”
Emma stared at her.
“What?”
May you like
Elaine's voice broke.
“You've known her for years.”
