Chapter 2 - The Man in the Back Pew
My mother stopped breathing for a moment.
The man remained standing near the last pew.
I had never seen him before.
At least, I thought I hadn't.
He was in his late sixties, perhaps early seventies, wearing a dark suit and holding a worn leather folder against his chest.
Father Michael looked surprised.
“Sir?”
The man didn't answer the priest.
His eyes stayed on my mother.
“Margaret.”
My mother's face changed.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
Fear.
She took one step backward.
Daniel noticed it too.
“Mom?”
She ignored him.
The man walked slowly down the aisle.
Every step seemed louder than it should have been.
I held my baby tighter.
“Who is he?” I whispered.
My mother finally spoke.
“Don't.”
The man stopped.
“Don't what?”
She looked at him.
“Don't do this here.”
His expression hardened.
“You brought it here.”
Silence.
Daniel looked between them.
“What is going on?”
My mother shook her head.
“Nothing.”
The man gave a bitter smile.
“Still saying that.”
Father Michael moved toward us.
“Perhaps we should continue this conversation privately.”
“No,” I said.
Everyone looked at me.
I looked at the man.
“You said Charles wasn't supposed to be the baby's name.”
He nodded.
“Correct.”
“Then what was?”
He glanced at my son.
“That's what your mother has been trying to prevent you from finding out.”
My mother's face went white.
Daniel stepped forward.
“Who are you?”
The man slowly opened the leather folder.
Inside were papers.
Old photographs.
Letters.
A hospital bracelet.
My heart began beating faster.
He pulled out one photograph.
“Your mother knows me.”
He held it toward me.
I didn't take it.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Thomas Reed.”
My mother whispered, “Thomas, please.”
He looked at her.
“You had twenty-eight years.”
That number made my stomach drop.
Twenty-eight years.
I looked at my mother.
She wouldn't meet my eyes.
Thomas placed the photograph on the edge of the baptismal font.
It showed a young woman.
My mother.
She looked barely older than I was now.
Beside her stood a man I didn't recognize.
And between them was a newborn baby.
I stared at the photograph.
“Who is that?”
My mother's voice trembled.
“Emily, don't.”
I looked at her.
“Who is that baby?”
She said nothing.
Thomas answered.
“Your brother.”
The church seemed to tilt.
Daniel caught my elbow.
“What?”
I looked at Thomas.
“My brother?”
He nodded.
My mother finally stepped forward.
“That isn't true.”
Thomas opened the folder again.
“You know it is.”
“You have no right.”
“I have every right.”
My mother turned toward the guests.
“This man is confused.”
Thomas laughed quietly.
“Twenty-eight years ago, you asked me to sign a document saying the child had died.”
My mother's lips trembled.
Daniel stared at her.
“Mom?”
She looked at him.
Then at me.
I couldn't breathe.
“Is he telling the truth?”
My mother said nothing.
That silence was an answer.
My baby stirred in my arms.
I looked down at him.
The peaceful little face suddenly made everything feel unbearably real.
There was something my mother had hidden.
Something involving a baby.
Something involving a name.
And apparently something involving twenty-eight years.
Thomas pulled out another document.
“This is why Charles matters.”
My mother lunged forward.
“No!”
Daniel stepped between them.
“Don't touch him.”
My mother stopped.
Thomas handed the document to Father Michael.
The priest read it.
His expression changed.
He looked at me.
Then at Daniel.
“This is a legal guardianship record.”
I stared.
“Whose?”
Father Michael hesitated.
Thomas answered.
“Your brother's.”
My mother whispered, “Stop.”
I looked at her.
“Where is he?”
She closed her eyes.
Thomas looked toward the church doors.
“He's closer than you think.”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
I turned.
Nothing.
Only sunlight through the stained glass.
Then my phone vibrated.
Once.
I pulled it from my purse.
There was a message from an unknown number.
I opened it.
One sentence.
I know why your mother chose Charles.
May you like
A second message appeared immediately beneath it.
And you need to ask her about the hospital in Dayton...
