Chapter 4 - The Second Baby Nobody Was Supposed to Find
"Transferred to Whitmore custody."
Grace read the words aloud.
Then she read them again, hoping she'd misunderstood.
Aaron stood beside her, studying the faded hospital slip.
"Are you certain that's what it says?"
Grace handed it to him.
"You can see for yourself."
He examined the admission number, the date, and the two infant entries.
"Don't call Nathaniel yet," he said.
Grace looked up.
"Why?"
"Because we don't know whether this is an original record or something someone altered later."
"My mother kept it hidden inside a sweater for forty-one years."
"I know."
"She wouldn't have hidden something like that unless it mattered."
Aaron softened his voice.
"I'm not saying it doesn't matter. I'm saying whoever manipulated these records has had decades to prepare."
Grace stared at him.
"Prepare for what?"
"For the day somebody finally opened that chest."
They returned to the mansion shortly before sunset.
Nathaniel met them in his private study.
Grace placed the sweater on his desk.
For several seconds, he didn't touch it.
"She made this for you," Grace said.
Nathaniel lifted the tiny garment.
His fingers moved over the uneven stitches.
"My mother Elena taught me to sew buttons," he said quietly. "She said every man should know how to repair something instead of throwing it away."
Grace sat opposite him.
"Mom said almost the same thing."
Nathaniel looked at her.
Neither smiled.
The similarities were becoming harder to ignore.
Then Grace showed him the hospital slip.
He read it without speaking.
"A girl," he finally said.
Grace nodded.
"Your mother gave birth to two babies."
Nathaniel's gaze moved toward the silver locket.
The photograph inside showed a dark-haired little girl.
He remembered Brianna saying her mother had given it to her.
And he remembered something else.
Brianna had never liked discussing her childhood.
She claimed her family moved constantly because her father was developing real estate.
Whenever Nathaniel asked for old family photographs, she said most had been lost during a flood.
Now he wondered whether the flood had ever happened.
"Get Brianna," he told Aaron.
Grace touched his arm.
"Don't tell her everything yet."
He looked at her.
"Why?"
"Because if she's involved, she'll warn whoever helped her. But if she isn't..."
Grace hesitated.
"If she isn't, this could destroy her too."
Nathaniel lowered his eyes.
He had been thinking about Brianna as someone who betrayed him.
Grace had just reminded him she might also have been deceived.
Brianna entered the study twenty minutes later.
She looked from Nathaniel to Grace.
"Are you putting me on trial?"
Nathaniel gestured toward a chair.
"Sit down."
"I'd rather stand."
"Fine."
He placed the locket on the table.
"Tell me about your childhood."
Brianna laughed bitterly.
"Seriously?"
"Where were you born?"
"Boston."
"Which hospital?"
She frowned.
"I don't remember."
"What year?"
"1985. You know how old I am."
Nathaniel felt his throat tighten.
Brianna had been born the same year as him.
They had celebrated birthdays a week apart, although she had once admitted her birth certificate had been reissued when she was young.
"Why was your birth certificate reissued?"
Her expression sharpened.
"Why are you asking?"
"Because your father may have lied to both of us."
Brianna sat down.
For a moment, she looked like someone whose strength had suddenly disappeared.
"My mother told me I was adopted," she whispered.
Nathaniel didn't move.
"At sixteen. She said my father couldn't have children, and they had arranged a private adoption."
Grace leaned forward.
"Did she tell you where you came from?"
"No."
"Did you ever ask?"
"Every year."
Brianna wiped her cheek.
"She said she promised my birth mother that I would have a good life."
Nathaniel thought of Diane Collins losing two babies in one day.
"Did you?"
Brianna looked at him.
"What?"
"Have a good life?"
She stared down at her engagement ring.
"My father gave me everything money could buy."
"That's not what I asked."
Her voice became small.
"He never let me choose anything."
For the first time, Nathaniel saw a different side of the woman he had planned to marry.
But it didn't erase what she'd done to Grace.
He leaned forward.
"Did your father tell you to hurt her?"
Brianna shook her head.
"He told me to keep her away from the documents. He said she was trying to steal something from our family."
"And you believed him?"
"I wanted to."
"Why?"
She hesitated.
"Because my mother has a progressive neurological illness. Dad controls her care. He said if the documents got out, we'd lose everything."
Grace's expression changed.
"My brother's rehabilitation..."
Brianna closed her eyes.
"I knew threatening him would make you stay quiet."
Grace's voice shook.
"You knew how frightened I was."
"Yes."
"You watched me bleeding."
Brianna couldn't look at her.
"Yes."
Grace stood.
"Then whatever your father told you, that part was your decision."
Brianna began crying.
Nathaniel didn't comfort her.
The following morning, Nathaniel arranged for an independent specialist to examine the hospital slip and family records.
He didn't order another paternity test.
There was already one in the burned documents, and he suspected someone had manipulated the original findings.
What mattered now was understanding why.
Meanwhile, Aaron investigated St. Agnes Hospital.
The facility had closed twenty years earlier, but its historical archives had been transferred to a Catholic charitable organization outside Worcester.
One former nurse was still living.
Her name was Sister Catherine Bell.
She was eighty-three.
And when Aaron mentioned Diane Collins, the elderly woman dropped the telephone.
Nathaniel insisted on accompanying him to meet her.
Grace went too.
They found Sister Catherine in a modest assisted-living residence, seated beside a window overlooking a garden.
She was small, with silver hair and unusually alert blue eyes.
Nathaniel introduced himself.
The old woman's face tightened.
"I knew someone would come eventually."
Grace sat beside her.
"My mother was Diane Collins."
Sister Catherine reached for her hand.
"Oh, sweetheart."
That was all she said.
But tears immediately filled her eyes.
Grace's heart began racing.
"You remember her?"
"I remember her crying."
Nathaniel pulled a chair closer.
"Tell us what happened."
Sister Catherine looked toward the window.
"Your mother delivered twins during a storm. A boy and a girl. Both healthy."
Grace gripped Nathaniel's sleeve.
"The hospital record says they were transferred."
"Yes," Sister Catherine whispered. "But your mother never agreed to give them away."
Nathaniel felt the room tilt.
"Then why did the hospital release us?"
"Because someone brought papers carrying her signature."
"Forged?"
"I suspected it. But I was a junior nurse. When I questioned the supervisor, she threatened my license."
Grace wiped her eyes.
"What happened to my mother?"
"She woke up after receiving medication and asked to see her babies."
Sister Catherine stopped.
Nathaniel waited.
"They told her both children had died from complications."
Grace covered her face.
Sister Catherine leaned toward her.
"I held your mother while she cried. I have regretted my silence every day since."
Nathaniel stared at the old woman's hands.
"Who ordered it?"
Sister Catherine shook her head.
"I never saw the original instructions. But I heard a name."
"Whose?"
"Whitmore."
Nathaniel looked sharply at Aaron.
Sister Catherine continued.
"A man came that night carrying a leather briefcase. He argued with the administrator about payment."
"Victor DeLuca?"
"No."
"Martin Hale?"
"No."
"Thomas Whitmore?"
The old woman's face changed.
"Yes."
On the drive back, Grace remained quiet.
Nathaniel finally spoke.
"I'm sorry."
She looked at him.
"For what?"
"For the years we lost."
She watched the trees passing outside.
"We don't know yet whether you and Brianna are the twins."
"No."
"But you think it's possible."
Nathaniel nodded.
Grace looked away.
"Then everything is worse than we thought."
That night, Nathaniel found Brianna waiting in the library.
She had removed her engagement ring.
It lay on the table beside her bracelet.
"My mother asked me to give you something," she said.
Nathaniel didn't approach.
"What?"
Brianna held out a small velvet pouch.
Inside was an antique silver rosary.
A tiny bluebird was engraved into its crucifix.
Nathaniel recognized the craftsmanship.
Elena had owned a matching rosary.
"Where did your mother get this?"
Brianna swallowed.
"She said it was given to her the night I came home."
Nathaniel turned the crucifix over.
A date was etched beneath the bluebird.
March 18, 1985.
And a message was engraved across the back.
FOR MY DAUGHTER, WHEN SHE LEARNS THE TRUTH.
Nathaniel looked up.
"Who wrote this?"
May you like
Brianna's lips trembled.
"My mother says Elena DeLuca did."
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