Chapter 3 - The Hospital Record
I stared at the message until the screen blurred.
Daniel leaned toward me.
“What does it say?”
I handed him the phone.
He read it.
His expression hardened.
“Who sent this?”
“I don't know.”
My mother saw the phone.
Her face changed again.
“What did you receive?”
I didn't answer.
Thomas watched her carefully.
“Tell her, Margaret.”
She looked at him.
“You promised.”
Thomas shook his head.
“I promised not to expose you before she was ready.”
“And now?”
“Now you used her son's baptism to continue the lie.”
My mother looked toward the baptismal font.
Her shoulders dropped.
Father Michael asked everyone to remain seated.
But no one moved.
The ceremony was over.
At least for now.
Daniel took my hand.
“We're leaving.”
My mother immediately stepped toward us.
“No.”
Daniel looked at her.
“Yes.”
She looked at me.
“Emily, please.”
I shook my head.
“You don't get to say please after this.”
We walked toward the side entrance.
Thomas followed.
Outside, the air felt colder.
Daniel placed his hand on my shoulder.
“Do you want me to call the police?”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“Then what?”
I looked at Thomas.
“I want the truth.”
He nodded.
“I thought you would.”
We went to a small coffee shop across the street because Father Michael offered the church office, but I couldn't bear to return inside.
My baby slept through everything.
That somehow made it worse.
Thomas placed the folder on the table.
“The hospital was St. Vincent's in Dayton.”
My stomach tightened.
“What happened there?”
Thomas looked at me.
“Your mother gave birth to twins.”
I stopped breathing.
Daniel whispered, “Twins?”
Thomas nodded.
“One boy. One girl.”
I looked down at my hands.
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“And my brother?”
“Yes.”
“What was his name?”
Thomas hesitated.
“Charles.”
I looked up.
The name.
The blanket.
The gifts.
Everything suddenly connected.
My mother hadn't simply chosen a family name.
She had chosen the name of the son she had lost.
Or claimed to have lost.
“What happened to him?”
Thomas opened the folder.
“That's where the story changes.”
He showed me a birth record.
Two names had been listed.
My name.
And Charles Reed.
I stared at the document.
Then I noticed something.
The second page had been altered.
The original name was crossed out.
Underneath was a handwritten note.
Transferred.
No destination.
No explanation.
“Who changed this?”
Thomas looked at my mother through the window of the coffee shop.
She had followed us.
She stood across the street.
Watching.
Thomas lowered his voice.
“Your mother.”
My hands shook.
“Why?”
“She believed one child was safer away from the family.”
“Safer from what?”
He didn't answer.
Daniel leaned forward.
“You said Charles is alive.”
Thomas nodded.
“He was.”
The word was strange.
Was.
I felt a chill.
“What does that mean?”
Thomas looked at the folder.
“I haven't seen him in eleven years.”
My heart sank.
“But you said he's close.”
“I said he was closer than you think.”
Before I could ask more, my mother entered the café.
She looked exhausted.
“Emily.”
I didn't look away.
“Tell me.”
She sat down.
Her hands trembled.
“I made a mistake.”
“A mistake?”
“I was young.”
“You were twenty-eight years ago.”
She closed her eyes.
“I was terrified.”
“Of what?”
She looked at my baby.
Then at Daniel.
Then at me.
“Of your father.”
The room went silent.
“My father?”
“He wanted Charles.”
“Why?”
My mother swallowed.
“Because he knew something about him.”
I stared.
“What?”
She whispered:
“Charles wasn't your father's biological son.”
My entire body went cold.
Daniel slowly stood.
“What?”
My mother looked toward the window.
And when she spoke again, her voice was barely audible.
“Your father wasn't the only man in my life when I became pregnant.”
Before I could respond, Thomas's phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
His face drained of color.
He answered.
“Hello?”
He listened.
Then he looked directly at me.
“It's him.”
My pulse stopped.
“Who?”
Thomas stood.
“The man you've been searching for without knowing it.”
He put the phone on speaker.
A man's voice came through.
“Emily?”
May you like
I froze.
Because I knew that voice...
