Chapter 2 - My Sister's Secret
Ryan's recorded voice was barely above a whisper.
"Then she can never find out."
I stopped the recording.
For several seconds, I couldn't breathe.
Emma stood in the doorway behind me.
"Mom?"
I turned.
She was wearing pajamas and holding her stuffed dog.
"Where did you get this phone?"
Her eyes moved toward the desk.
"Dad left it in the garage."
"When?"
"The day he moved out."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I forgot."
I knew she was lying.
"Emma."
She looked frightened.
"I heard things."
"What things?"
She wouldn't answer.
I crouched in front of her.
"You are not in trouble."
Her eyes filled.
"I heard Aunt Claire crying on the phone."
"When?"
"Before the baby died."
The room seemed to tilt.
"What did she say?"
Emma swallowed.
"She said she couldn't do it anymore."
"Do what?"
"I don't know."
I pulled her against me.
Whatever Ryan and Claire had hidden, I wouldn't interrogate my child for answers.
The next morning, I called St. Matthew's Hospital.
Privacy laws meant they couldn't tell me whether Claire had been a patient.
So I called my divorce attorney, Rebecca Sloan.
Rebecca listened without interrupting.
"Don't confront Ryan yet," she said.
"Why?"
"Because if this matters, you want the complete story before he has time to shape it."
"What could possibly matter now?"
"Lauren, you found a secret hospital visit involving your husband and sister during your pregnancy. I don't know. That's why we investigate."
She referred me to a private investigator named Marcus Hale.
Within forty-eight hours, Marcus found something.
Claire had visited St. Matthew's Women's Center three times during the months of the affair.
I stared at him across his office.
"Was she pregnant?"
"I can't legally access medical records."
"But?"
"But one of those visits was to a reproductive endocrinology clinic."
I felt sick.
Marcus slid a photograph across the desk.
It showed Ryan entering the hospital with Claire.
The date was six days before my baby's death.
"There's more," Marcus said.
He had discovered payments.
Thousands of dollars from our joint savings had gone to an account I didn't recognize.
Ryan had labeled them consulting expenses.
They weren't.
The account belonged to a fertility law firm.
I drove home shaking.
That evening Ryan arrived to pick up the girls.
I stood in the doorway.
"St. Matthew's."
His face changed.
That was all the confirmation I needed.
"What about it?"
"Don't."
"Lauren—"
"Was Claire pregnant?"
"No."
The answer came quickly.
Too quickly.
"Then why were you at a fertility clinic?"
Ryan looked toward his car.
The girls were waiting inside.
"Not here."
"Then where?"
He lowered his voice.
"Claire couldn't have children."
I stared at him.
"What?"
"She found out years ago."
"Why were you there?"
"She wanted options."
"And you were helping my sister explore fertility options while sleeping with her?"
His face tightened.
"It wasn't like that."
"It keeps being exactly like that."
He stepped closer.
"Lauren, there are things Claire never told you."
"I don't care."
"You will."
The certainty in his voice frightened me.
"Why?"
Ryan looked at the house.
Then at me.
"Because the reason Claire started seeing those doctors began before our affair."
"What does that mean?"
He wouldn't answer.
"Ryan."
Emma suddenly opened the car door.
"Dad?"
Ryan stepped back.
"We'll talk later."
"No. We won't."
He drove away.
That night, another recording changed everything.
Claire was crying.
"I can't keep watching Lauren have everything I can't have."
Ryan replied, "This isn't about Lauren."
"It always was."
Then silence.
Then Claire said:
"If she knew what Mom did when we were teenagers, she'd understand."
I called my mother.
She answered on the second ring.
"Mom, what happened to Claire when we were teenagers?"
Silence.
"Who told you?"
"Nobody."
"Lauren, some things belong to Claire."
"Did something happen that made her infertile?"
My mother began crying.
That answer was enough.
Claire had suffered a medical emergency at seventeen.
A pregnancy.
One nobody had told me about.
She had nearly died.
Complications left her unable to carry a child.
"Why didn't I know?"
"Claire begged us not to tell you."
"Who was the father?"
My mother went silent again.
"Mom?"
"I can't tell you."
"Why?"
"Because I promised."
I almost screamed.
Instead, I remembered Emma sleeping upstairs.
"I am done with family secrets."
I hung up.
The following afternoon, Claire appeared at my door.
I hadn't invited her.
She looked smaller than I remembered.
"Ryan told me you know about St. Matthew's."
"Leave."
"Please."
"No."
"I need five minutes."
"You took thirteen years from me. You're not getting five minutes."
She flinched.
"I loved you."
"That's an interesting tense."
Tears appeared.
"I hated myself."
"Still not my problem."
"I didn't steal Ryan because I wanted your life."
"You didn't steal him. He volunteered."
That silenced her.
Then she said, "But there is something about the baby."
Everything inside me stopped.
"What did you say?"
"Not Hope."
My heart slammed.
"How do you know her name?"
Claire covered her mouth.
I had never told her.
Neither had Ryan.
Only my mother and daughters knew.
"Who told you?"
She backed toward the porch steps.
"Claire."
"I'm sorry."
"Who told you my baby's name?"
Her eyes shifted past me.
Toward the upstairs window.
Emma was standing there.
Watching us.
Claire whispered, "Emma did."
I turned toward the window.
When I looked back, Claire was crying.
"She came to see me two months ago."
"Why?"
"Because she wanted to know why I destroyed your family."
My knees weakened.
"What did you tell her?"
"Not everything."
"What did you tell my nine-year-old daughter?"
Claire wiped her face.
"The truth about me."
"And Ryan?"
"Some of it."
I stepped closer.
"Does Emma know something I don't?"
Claire didn't answer.
That night, I waited until Emma's sisters were asleep.
Then I sat beside her.
"Did you visit Aunt Claire?"
She nodded.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I thought you'd be mad."
"I'm not mad."
"I wanted her to say sorry."
"Did she?"
"Yes."
"Did that help?"
"No."
Emma opened her bedside drawer.
She removed a small pink envelope.
"Aunt Claire gave me this."
My pulse accelerated.
"What is it?"
"She said I should only open it if she really married Dad."
"Did you open it?"
Emma shook her head.
"Why not?"
"Because she said once I read it, I couldn't pretend anymore."
I held out my hand.
Emma hesitated.
Then gave me the envelope.
On the front, Claire had written one sentence:
FOR EMMA — IF I AM TOO COWARDLY TO STOP THE WEDDING MYSELF.
I reached for the seal.
Emma suddenly grabbed my wrist.
"Mom, wait."
"Why?"
Her eyes widened toward the hallway.
May you like
Someone was standing outside her bedroom door.
Then the handle slowly began to turn...
