Chapter 3 - The Photograph That Shouldn't Exist
“Give it to me.”
Ethan held out his hand.
Claire instinctively drew the photograph closer.
“Don't.”
His face tightened.
“That's my father's handwriting.”
“He was my father, too.”
The words escaped before Claire could soften them.
Ethan lowered his hand.
For several seconds, they stood beneath the soft golden light while guests moved around them.
Margaret approached.
“What is happening?”
Ethan turned the photograph toward her.
“Have you seen this before?”
Margaret's expression changed.
Not dramatically.
Her eyes simply stopped moving.
Then she reached toward the picture.
Claire stepped away.
“No.”
“Claire, I only want to look.”
“You can look from there.”
Margaret withdrew her hand.
Ethan studied the photograph again.
“Dad never told me you drove that bus.”
“He didn't?”
“No.”
Claire felt an old ache return.
Their father had died seven years earlier.
She had attended his funeral, standing near the back of the chapel.
Ethan had barely acknowledged her.
Margaret had introduced her to several mourners as someone who had once worked at the resort.
Someone.
Not her daughter.
Claire had believed she understood what her family thought of her.
Now she wondered how much Ethan had never been told.
“Where did this come from?” Ethan asked.
Nina answered.
“Ada Serrano gave it to me.”
Ethan frowned.
“Ada from the laundry department?”
“She retired last year. She lives in Cottage Six.”
Claire turned sharply.
“Ada is here?”
“She requested an invitation. Graham said the room was full, but I found her a seat.”
Margaret closed her eyes briefly.
“Nina, this isn't appropriate.”
“She's worked here for forty-one years,” Nina replied. “I thought she deserved to attend.”
Claire looked at the photograph again.
Ada was visible through the shuttle's back window.
Her gray wool scarf was wrapped around a younger employee's shoulders.
Claire remembered that scarf.
She remembered the snow falling so heavily that she couldn't see the road markings.
She remembered driving slowly, listening to nineteen frightened voices behind her.
She remembered counting those voices every time the shuttle stopped.
Ethan interrupted her thoughts.
“The photograph doesn't prove what happened.”
Claire looked up.
“What do you mean?”
“Dad said you left your station before the emergency.”
“I left to get those people.”
“That's not what I was told.”
“By Graham?”
“By Dad.”
Claire felt something colder than anger.
Daniel had known.
He had helped her bring the employees inside.
He had wrapped his coat around her shoulders after she returned.
Why would Ethan believe otherwise?
“Tell me exactly what Dad said.”
Ethan hesitated.
“He said he was waiting for you in the north wing.”
“When?”
“During the evacuation.”
Claire shook her head.
“That doesn't make sense.”
“He said the service gate was locked. He couldn't get through.”
The old memory returned with painful clarity.
Gate Four.
The heavy steel gate separating the service courtyard from the north wing.
It had been locked before Claire arrived with the shuttle.
She had tried the handle herself.
“Ethan, Dad wasn't behind that gate.”
“How would you know?”
“Because he was helping me.”
Margaret suddenly spoke.
“Enough.”
Both children looked at her.
“This happened fourteen years ago. We aren't going to tear the family apart over a photograph.”
Claire turned toward her mother.
“The family was already torn apart.”
Margaret's eyes glistened.
“You have no idea what those days were like for me.”
“I remember exactly what they were like for me.”
“Your father was exhausted. The resort was nearly bankrupt. Your brother was barely twenty.”
“And I was twenty-five,” Claire said. “Old enough to take everyone's anger, apparently.”
Ethan looked between them.
“What aren't you telling me?”
Before either woman could answer, an elderly voice came from behind the display.
“I can tell you where your father was.”
Ada Serrano approached slowly, leaning on a wooden cane.
Her silver hair was neatly arranged.
She wore a modest burgundy dress and a small pearl necklace.
Claire hadn't seen her in years.
“Ada.”
The older woman's face softened.
“My goodness, sweetheart. You look just like you did the night you got us out.”
Claire crossed the distance and embraced her.
Ada held her tightly.
Then she looked at Ethan.
“Your father rode beside me on that shuttle's second trip. He was helping the kitchen staff.”
Ethan stared.
“There was only one trip.”
“Two,” Ada corrected. “The first took twelve people. The second brought seven more.”
She opened her handbag and removed a faded blue paper ticket.
A number was punched through one corner.
9:14 P.M. — DECEMBER 18, 2012.
Claire recognized it.
The shuttle dispatcher had used those tickets to count passengers during emergencies.
Ada placed it beside the photograph.
“This was the second trip.”
Ethan looked at his mother.
“Why does the official report say Claire abandoned everyone at eight forty?”
Margaret did not answer.
Ada's voice remained quiet.
“Because someone had already ordered the service gate closed.”
Ethan turned toward her.
“Who?”
Ada looked directly at Margaret.
“Your mother.”
May you like
And then she added something that made Claire's stomach tighten.
“But Margaret wasn't the person who gave the original instruction.”
