Chapter 7 - The Name They Erased
My mother pulled an old envelope from her purse.
Her hands shook.
Charles stared at it.
“Where did you get that?”
“I kept it.”
“For twenty-eight years?”
“Yes.”
She handed it to me.
The paper was yellowed.
I opened it.
Inside was an original hospital record.
Two names.
Emily Margaret Reed.
Charles Thomas Reed.
And beneath them, in faint handwriting, another line.
Baby B.
No sex listed.
No name.
I looked at my mother.
“What is this?”
She closed her eyes.
“There were three babies.”
The room went silent.
Daniel stared.
Charles sat down.
“No.”
My mother nodded.
“I didn't know at first.”
“How could you not know?”
“They told me one baby had died.”
“Which one?”
She shook her head.
“I was unconscious.”
Charles whispered:
“Then why did Grandfather only take me?”
“Because he didn't know about the third child.”
My skin prickled.
“Where is that baby?”
My mother looked at me.
“I don't know.”
Thomas entered the café.
He had been waiting outside.
He saw the document.
His face changed.
“Margaret.”
She looked at him.
“You knew.”
“I suspected.”
“Suspected what?”
“That Baby B survived.”
My heart raced.
“Who could Baby B be?”
Thomas placed another document on the table.
A birth certificate.
But the name had been blacked out.
“Someone changed the record.”
Daniel asked:
“Who?”
Thomas looked at Charles.
“Your grandfather.”
Charles shook his head.
“He couldn't have.”
“He did.”
My mother whispered:
“That's why he wanted the family name preserved.”
I looked at the baptism gifts.
Charles.
The name was everywhere.
Not because my mother wanted tradition.
Because she was trying to force the past back into existence.
My phone vibrated.
A new message.
This one had no words.
Only a photograph.
A teenage girl.
Dark hair.
Brown eyes.
A small scar near her left eyebrow.
I stared.
Something about her face felt familiar.
Daniel leaned closer.
“Who is that?”
I didn't answer.
Charles took the phone.
His expression changed.
“Where did you get this?”
The message appeared.
I found her.
Charles stood.
“Who sent this?”
Another message arrived.
She's been looking for Emily too.
My mother grabbed the phone.
“No.”
I pulled it away.
“Mom, who is she?”
She stared at the photograph.
Then whispered:
“Your sister.”
I felt the room disappear.
“My what?”
Charles looked at me.
“She would be twenty-eight.”
Thomas nodded.
“The third baby.”
My mother began crying.
“She was taken.”
“By whom?”
She looked toward the church across the street.
“I don't know.”
“Then how do you know she's my sister?”
My mother touched the photograph.
“Because she has the same birthmark.”
I looked at the girl's neck.
A small crescent-shaped mark.
I had one too.
So did Charles.
Daniel looked at me.
“This is impossible.”
My phone vibrated again.
A new message.
This time there was a location.
A motel outside Columbus.
And one sentence:
Come alone if you want to meet her.
Charles immediately shook his head.
“You're not going.”
I stared at him.
“I have to.”
“No.”
“She's my sister.”
“And someone wants you there.”
My mother stood.
“She's right.”
Charles looked at her.
“You don't get to decide that.”
She stared back.
Then she whispered:
“Because I already know who sent the message.”
Everyone went silent.
I looked at her.
“Who?”
May you like
My mother slowly pointed toward the window.
At the person standing across the street...
