Chapter 6 - THE MAN WHO DREW BOATS
“Daniel is not coming to this house,” Rebecca said firmly.
Nathan looked at her.
“Why not?”
“Because every time someone comes here, they get frightened, threatened, or accused of lying.”
Her words struck harder than any insult.
Nathan glanced toward Isabella.
Then toward Dorothy.
And finally at me.
Rebecca wasn't wrong.
Within a few hours, his father's memorial dinner had turned into a place where an elderly nurse had been humiliated, a hidden sister had been confronted, and an old family mystery had exposed people who could still hurt them.
Nathan lowered his voice.
“All right. We won't bring him here.”
Rebecca looked surprised.
“You won't?”
“No. You know him. I don't. If he's willing to speak with us, we'll go to him.”
She nodded slowly.
“Thank you.”
I saw something shift between them.
Not trust.
Not yet.
But the beginning of it.
The next morning, Nathan arranged transportation to Lowell.
He didn't bring a convoy.
Only Marco drove, while Nathan, Rebecca, Dorothy, and I sat together in a dark SUV.
Isabella remained at the mansion.
Rebecca had made it clear she wasn't ready to see her again.
Before we left, Isabella approached Nathan in the hallway.
“I need to show you something.”
He looked tired.
“Can it wait?”
She hesitated.
“Not much longer.”
Nathan held her gaze.
“Then keep it safe. We'll talk when I return.”
She nodded.
But there was something in her expression that troubled me.
It wasn't anger.
It was resignation.
During the drive, Rebecca told us about the community art center.
She taught painting twice a week and worked with adults recovering from injuries.
“Daniel started volunteering after he retired,” she explained. “He used to repair small engines.”
Nathan smiled faintly.
“Boats?”
“Mostly.”
He looked out at the road.
“Our father used to repair boats when he was young.”
Rebecca turned toward him.
“Really?”
“He said you learned more about a man by handing him a wrench than by asking him questions.”
For the first time, Rebecca laughed.
“Daniel says almost exactly that.”
Dorothy smiled through her tears.
Perhaps the family had been scattered.
But certain things had survived.
When we reached the art center, children were painting cardboard boats at long tables.
An older man stood near the back, repairing a small wooden model.
He had gray hair, broad shoulders, and a faded green work jacket.
Rebecca walked toward him.
“Daniel?”
He looked up.
“Morning, Becca.”
Then he noticed Nathan.
His smile disappeared.
For a moment, he stared as though he'd seen a ghost.
Nathan stepped forward.
“Daniel?”
The older man placed the wooden boat on the table.
“I know who you are.”
Nathan stopped.
“Have we met?”
“No.”
Daniel's voice was calm.
“But I know your face.”
Rebecca approached him.
“Daniel, there's something I need to ask.”
He looked at her with genuine affection.
“Anything, kiddo.”
She showed him the gold watch.
His expression changed.
He reached for the edge of the table.
“Where did you get that?”
Rebecca held it out.
“It was hidden at my father's house.”
Daniel stared at it.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then he turned the watch over and read the engraving.
His eyes filled with tears.
“My mother gave this to me when I turned eighteen.”
Nathan frowned.
“Your mother?”
“Margaret Bell.”
Rebecca stepped backward.
“Margaret was your mother?”
Daniel looked at her.
“Not by blood. But she raised me.”
The words changed everything.
Rebecca slowly lowered herself into a chair.
“Margaret raised both of us?”
Daniel nodded.
“Different times. Different homes.”
Rebecca's voice trembled.
“She never told me.”
“She made me promise not to tell you.”
“Why?”
Daniel glanced toward Nathan.
“Because she thought you'd be safer not knowing.”
Nathan rubbed his forehead.
Everyone kept using the same words.
Safer not knowing.
But nobody had ever explained who was dangerous.
Daniel looked at Dorothy.
“You're the nurse.”
Dorothy nodded.
“Dorothy Hayes.”
He reached for her hand.
“Margaret told me about you.”
“What did she say?”
“That you refused to sign the papers.”
Dorothy began crying.
Daniel squeezed her hand.
“She said you were the only person in that hospital who asked where we were going.”
Nathan pulled out a chair.
“Daniel, can we talk somewhere private?”
The older man nodded.
He led us into a small office filled with paintbrushes and boxes of donated supplies.
Once everyone was seated, he closed the door.
“I've known Rebecca was a Caruso for years,” he admitted.
Rebecca stared.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“And you never told me?”
Daniel looked miserable.
“I wanted to. More times than I can count.”
“Then why didn't you?”
“Because Margaret asked me to protect you.”
Rebecca stood.
“I'm tired of being protected by lies.”
Daniel lowered his head.
“You're right.”
His answer surprised her.
He didn't argue.
He didn't explain away her anger.
He simply accepted it.
Nathan leaned forward.
“What do you know about the hospital?”
Daniel took the watch.
“My mother was a patient there. She was young and had very little money. Catherine Bennett's foundation paid for my medical treatment after I was born.”
“Why?”
Daniel's expression hardened.
“Because Catherine needed my mother to sign something.”
Nathan waited.
“A statement saying another woman had abandoned her baby.”
Rebecca froze.
“Who?”
Daniel looked at her.
“Your mother.”
Dorothy shook her head.
“That wasn't true.”
“I know,” Daniel said.
“Then why did your mother sign?”
“Because Catherine threatened to stop paying for my heart surgery.”
The room went quiet.
Daniel looked at Nathan.
“My mother carried that guilt for the rest of her life.”
“Did she ever correct the statement?”
“She tried.”
“When?”
“After your mother died.”
Nathan frowned.
“Why wait so long?”
“Because she thought Catherine had destroyed the records. Then she discovered something she'd kept hidden.”
Daniel opened an old filing cabinet.
From the bottom drawer, he removed a red sketchbook.
The cover was worn.
Inside were dozens of pencil drawings.
Boats.
Houses.
Hospital rooms.
And one drawing of a woman holding a baby beside a window.
Daniel turned to the last page.
Rebecca leaned closer.
It showed a little girl standing outside a large mansion.
The girl's face was unfinished.
Behind her, a woman held a pair of garden shears.
Nathan stared.
“Who drew this?”
“My mother.”
“Why?”
“She was trying to remember something she witnessed.”
Rebecca looked at the date written beneath the drawing.
She was seven years old when it had been made.
Daniel pointed to a second figure in the corner.
A teenage girl.
Dark hair.
A blue coat.
Nathan whispered, “Isabella.”
Daniel shook his head.
“No.”
He turned the page.
There was another drawing of the same teenage girl.
This time, beneath the image, Margaret had written a name.
Catherine's daughter — Elise.
Rebecca looked confused.
“Catherine has a daughter?”
Daniel nodded.
“She had one.”
“Where is she?”
Daniel's eyes darkened.
“She vanished after confronting Catherine about the children.”
Nathan leaned forward.
“When?”
“Twenty-nine years ago.”
Daniel reached beneath the sketchbook's back cover and removed a faded train ticket.
It was dated three days after Rebecca's birth.
The destination was Boston.
On the back was a handwritten message.
Meet me before they move the children. Bring the original ledger.
And beneath it was a name.
Elise Bennett.
Nathan stared at the ticket.
Then Daniel said quietly:
“Your father wasn't the person who ordered Rebecca hidden. Elise was preparing to expose the woman who did.”
May you like
He looked toward Nathan.
“And the last person seen with Elise Bennett was your sister Isabella.”
