Chapter 2 - The Signature That Wasn’t Mine
“Stay with Ethan,” I told Daniel.
I was already moving.
“Emily.”
“I need to know what she's doing.”
Mom disappeared around the side of the church.
I followed.
My heels were useless on the narrow stone path, so I kicked them off and carried them.
By the time I reached the parish office, the door was closing.
I grabbed it.
“Mom.”
She spun around.
A young church secretary behind the desk looked from her to me.
“Emily?”
Mom's voice became strangely gentle.
“You should be with your baby.”
“What are you doing?”
“I left something.”
“What?”
She didn't answer.
The secretary, Maria, held a large envelope.
Mom looked at it.
So did I.
“Is that what you came for?”
Maria hesitated.
“Mrs. Bennett asked for the baptism documents.”
“They belong to the parents,” I said.
Mom's jaw tightened.
“Emily, stop.”
“No.”
I walked to the desk.
“Maria, may I see everything submitted for Ethan's baptism?”
“Of course.”
Mom reached for the envelope.
I reached it first.
Inside were copies of the forms Daniel and I had completed.
At least, some were.
Then I found another sheet.
Authorization for Baptismal Record Amendment.
Child's original name:
ETHAN JAMES CARTER.
Requested amended name:
CHARLES JAMES CARTER.
Reason:
Correction of parental naming error.
At the bottom were two signatures.
Mine.
Daniel's.
Except I had never signed it.
My hand began shaking.
Daniel arrived carrying Ethan's car seat.
He took one look at me.
“What happened?”
I handed him the page.
He read it.
His face hardened.
“I didn't sign this.”
“I know.”
Mom stood near the doorway.
Daniel looked at her.
“Did you forge our signatures?”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
“I was trying to prevent a mistake.”
“That wasn't the question.”
Maria quietly stepped away from the desk.
Mom lowered her voice.
“You both chose Charles originally.”
“No, we didn't,” I said.
“You were considering it.”
“That doesn't give you permission to forge documents.”
“They aren't legal documents.”
Maria spoke carefully.
“They are church records, Mrs. Bennett. Signatures still matter.”
Mom looked betrayed that Maria had contradicted her.
Daniel photographed the page.
Mom immediately reached for it.
“Don't.”
He stepped back.
“You're done touching our paperwork.”
Her face crumpled.
“After everything I've done for this family.”
I stared at her.
There was a time that sentence would have worked.
It had worked when I was twelve.
When I wanted to quit piano.
When I was seventeen and wanted to attend a college six hours away.
When Daniel and I planned a small wedding and Mom transformed it into a two-hundred-person event.
After everything I've done.
It always meant the same thing.
You owe me.
But now Ethan was involved.
And something inside me had changed.
“What does Charles have to do with you?”
She went still.
Daniel looked at her too.
“Who was the man in the photograph?”
Mom picked up her handbag.
“My past is none of your business.”
“You made it my son's business.”
She headed for the door.
I blocked her.
“Was Charles your boyfriend?”
Silence.
“Was he family?”
Nothing.
“Was he my father?”
Her face changed.
Just for a fraction of a second.
But I saw it.
So did Daniel.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
“Mom.”
“No.”
The answer was too quick.
“Then why did you react like that?”
“I didn't.”
“Look at me.”
She wouldn't.
“Is Dad my father?”
Finally she looked up.
“Yes.”
“Then who was Charles?”
She whispered:
“Someone who died.”
Patricia appeared in the doorway.
“No, Linda.”
Mom spun around.
My aunt's face was wet with tears.
“Don't do this again.”
“Patricia, go home.”
“You've had thirty-two years.”
“Go home.”
Patricia looked at me.
“Charles didn't just die, Emily.”
Mom's voice cracked.
“Stop.”
Patricia continued.
“He disappeared.”
I felt Daniel beside me.
“What's the difference?”
Patricia swallowed.
“Because nobody ever found his body.”
Mom walked past her.
I called after her.
“Mom!”
She stopped but didn't turn.
“Why are you naming my son after a missing man?”
Her shoulders rose with a breath.
Then she said:
“Because some promises don't end when people disappear.”
She left.
I stared after her.
Patricia looked like she had said too much already.
I stepped toward her.
“What promise?”
“I can't.”
“You just told me he disappeared.”
“Your mother has to tell you the rest.”
“She won't.”
Patricia looked toward the parking lot.
“No.”
“She never will.”
I took out my phone.
Rachel had sent the photograph of Mom's note.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
Dear family,
Emily and Daniel have finally decided to honor our family by naming their son Charles James Carter. I know how much this will mean to everyone who remembers what we lost.
What we lost.
I showed Patricia.
Her eyes closed.
“You remember him.”
“Yes.”
“Who was he?”
“My brother.”
Everything inside me stopped.
“Your brother?”
“My older brother.”
“My uncle?”
Patricia nodded.
I tried to understand.
My mother had never told me she had a brother.
Not once.
There were no photographs.
No stories.
No name on the family tree she had helped me make for school.
“Why have I never heard of him?”
Patricia looked at the church door.
“Because after Charles vanished, your mother made us stop saying his name.”
I almost laughed from the absurdity.
“She erased him, and now she wants my son named after him?”
Patricia nodded slowly.
“That is why none of this makes sense.”
Daniel's phone buzzed again.
The unknown number.
He opened the message.
I watched his eyes move across the screen.
Then he handed me the phone.
IF LINDA IS USING THE NAME CHARLES AGAIN, SHE FOUND THE LETTER.
“What letter?” I whispered.
Another message arrived.
THE ONE CHARLES WROTE THE NIGHT HE DISAPPEARED.
Then a photograph loaded.
A yellowed envelope.
My mother's name was written across the front.
May you like
And underneath it, in different handwriting, someone had written:
DO NOT LET EMILY SEE THIS.
