Chapter 2 - The Woman Behind the Door
Nathan turned so quickly that Lily jumped.
The doorway was empty.
For one strange second, nobody moved.
Then Nathan heard footsteps retreating down the apartment hallway.
He crossed the room and looked outside.
Nothing.
The corridor stretched toward the stairwell.
The building was old enough that every footstep usually announced itself through the floorboards.
Now there was silence.
Nathan returned and locked the door.
"Who else knows you're here?" he asked Sarah.
Her face tightened.
"Nobody should."
"That's not an answer."
Sarah looked toward Lily.
Nathan understood.
"Lily, sweetheart," Sarah said weakly, "could you bring me some water?"
"I already did."
"Another glass."
Lily hesitated.
Nathan could see she understood she was being sent away.
Still, she obeyed.
When she disappeared into the kitchen, Nathan faced Sarah.
"Start talking."
"You haven't changed."
"That's what you're going with?"
"I meant your eyes."
Nathan gave her a hard stare.
"Thirty years, Sarah."
"I know."
"You disappeared."
"I know."
"My mother died believing—"
"No."
Sarah's interruption startled him.
"Don't say that."
"Why?"
"Because Elena knew where I went."
Nathan stared at her.
"My mother spent months looking for you."
"That's what you were told."
"By my father."
Sarah gave him a sad look.
And suddenly Nathan understood that those words were the problem.
"Tell me."
Sarah struggled to sit upright.
Nathan instinctively reached forward.
She flinched.
He stopped.
That tiny reaction hurt more than he expected.
Sarah noticed.
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For too many things."
"Try one."
She looked toward the old sewing machine.
"Your mother gave me that."
Nathan's jaw tightened.
"Why?"
"Because she wanted me to leave Chicago."
Nathan stared at her.
"Elena wanted you gone?"
"She wanted me alive."
The sentence hung between them.
Nathan glanced toward the kitchen.
Lily was humming quietly while filling a glass.
"What happened?"
Sarah took a breath.
"Your father found out about us."
Nathan almost smiled.
"My father knew we were dating."
"No, Nate. He knew what we planned."
Nathan remembered.
He had been nineteen.
Sarah eighteen.
Two kids convinced love was enough.
They had planned to leave Chicago together.
Nathan had saved six hundred dollars.
Sarah had bought two bus tickets.
Nathan had waited at the station.
She never came.
"What did he do?"
Sarah's voice lowered.
"He came to my house."
Nathan went still.
"He told me you had changed your mind."
"I never—"
"I know that now."
"He lied."
"Yes."
"Why would you believe him?"
"Because he showed me a letter."
"What letter?"
"One supposedly written by you."
Nathan felt sick.
"What did it say?"
"That I was embarrassing you. That you had decided I wasn't the kind of woman who belonged in your future."
Nathan stared.
"I would never have written that."
"I know."
"Now."
Sarah absorbed the accusation.
"Yes. Now."
Nathan walked toward the window.
He needed distance.
Outside, Chicago moved without caring that thirty years of his life were rearranging themselves inside Apartment 4B.
"Why did my mother help you?"
"Because she discovered what your father had done."
Nathan turned.
"Then why didn't she tell me?"
"She intended to."
"When?"
Sarah looked at him.
"The night she sold the sewing machine."
Nathan's pulse quickened.
"She didn't sell it."
"No."
"She gave it to you."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because there was something inside it."
Nathan looked at the machine.
"What?"
"I don't know."
"You expect me to believe that?"
"Your mother told me never to open it unless something happened to her."
Nathan crossed the room.
He examined the machine.
The wooden base was scratched and worn.
He remembered sitting beside it as a boy.
Elena's hands moving fabric.
Her humming.
Her tired smile.
"Something did happen to her."
Sarah's eyes filled.
"I know."
"She died."
"I know."
"And you still didn't open it?"
"I tried."
Nathan looked back.
"What does that mean?"
"There's a compartment. I couldn't find the mechanism."
Nathan ran his fingers beneath the wooden base.
Nothing.
Sarah continued.
"After Elena died, your father found me again."
Nathan slowly straightened.
"What did he want?"
"The machine."
Of course.
"Why?"
"He never told me."
"What did you do?"
"I disappeared."
"For thirty years?"
"For as long as I had to."
Nathan glanced toward Lily.
"Then why come back?"
Sarah's face changed.
"I didn't have a choice."
"Everybody has a choice."
"No, Nate. Not everybody."
Lily returned with water.
Sarah smiled.
"Thank you, baby."
Nathan watched them.
There was something in the way Sarah looked at Lily.
Not simply love.
Fear.
The kind of fear belonging to someone who believed time was running out.
Nathan noticed the medicine bottles again.
"What exactly is wrong with you?"
Sarah avoided his eyes.
"Sarah."
"It's treatable."
"That wasn't my question."
"I need surgery."
"When?"
"As soon as I can afford it."
Nathan's expression hardened.
"You're behind on rent while your seven-year-old daughter sews clothes to buy medicine, and you're waiting until you can afford surgery?"
Sarah's embarrassment became anger.
"I didn't ask you to come."
"No. You just moved into a building with my name on the ownership records."
"I didn't know it was yours."
Nathan believed her.
That made it worse.
He reached for his phone.
"What are you doing?"
"Getting you a doctor."
"No."
"Sarah."
"No."
Nathan looked at her.
"I wasn't asking."
Sarah almost smiled.
"There he is."
"Who?"
"Nathan Moretti."
"He's been here the entire time."
"No. Nate was here for a minute."
Nathan said nothing.
Lily looked between them.
"You know Mr. Moretti?"
Sarah's expression softened.
"A long time ago."
"Was he nice?"
Sarah looked directly at Nathan.
"Once."
Nathan almost answered.
Instead, his eyes returned to the photograph.
He picked it up.
His father stood between Elena and Sarah.
On the back:
October 17.
The night Sarah vanished.
And underneath:
HE KNOWS ABOUT THE ROSE.
Nathan showed Sarah.
"Who wrote this?"
"Your mother."
"What rose?"
Sarah pointed weakly toward the machine.
"That one."
Nathan crouched beside it.
The silver rose was no larger than a thumbnail.
He pressed it.
Nothing.
Twisted it.
Nothing.
Then Lily spoke.
"You have to push the middle."
Nathan looked at her.
"What?"
"Mom couldn't open it either."
Lily approached.
She pressed the center of the rose and simultaneously moved one of the wooden decorative panels.
Click.
A hidden compartment opened.
Nobody spoke.
Inside was a folded piece of paper.
And a key.
Nathan removed both.
The paper was old.
His mother's handwriting covered the front.
NATE — IF SARAH EVER BRINGS THIS BACK TO YOU, YOUR FATHER LIED.
Nathan's hands went cold.
He unfolded it.
Only half the letter remained.
The lower portion had been torn away.
Sarah stared.
"It wasn't torn before."
Nathan looked up.
"How do you know?"
"Because Elena folded it herself."
"Then somebody opened this machine."
Sarah went pale.
The footsteps.
The opening door.
Someone had been inside the apartment.
Nathan looked at the key.
A number was stamped into the metal.
He knew that number.
His father had kept a private storage vault in an old Moretti building downtown.
Nathan hadn't entered it since the funeral.
His phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
A photograph appeared.
Nathan opened it.
It showed him standing inside Apartment 4B.
Taken minutes ago.
Underneath was a message.
LEAVE THE MACHINE ALONE.
Nathan looked toward the locked front door.
Another message arrived.
This one contained a photograph of Lily walking home from school.
And beneath it:
YOU SHOULD HAVE LET THE PAST STAY DEAD.
Nathan's face changed.
Sarah saw it.
"What is it?"
Nathan didn't answer.
A third message appeared.
It contained only an address.
And a time.
MIDNIGHT.
May you like
Then one final line appeared on the screen.
BRING ELENA'S KEY, OR THE GIRL LEARNS WHY SHE WAS REALLY BORN.
