Chapter 2
For several seconds, nobody moved.
I could hear the refrigerator humming behind the bakery counter.
I could hear a spoon hit a ceramic plate somewhere near the window.
And I could hear my mother breathing.
Fast.
Too fast.
“Mom?” I whispered.
She crossed the room so quickly that her coat brushed against my cane.
Her hands landed on my shoulders.
“We’re leaving.”
Daniel stepped closer.
“Sarah.”
“Don’t.”
“One minute.”
“I said don’t.”
His voice broke.
“Is she mine?”
My stomach tightened.
I didn’t understand the question.
I understood the fear in Mom’s hands.
Her fingers were trembling.
“Mom, what does he mean?”
She didn’t answer.
Daniel did.
“Lily, I—”
“Do not talk to her.”
Mom moved between us.
Daniel stopped immediately.
“I’m not trying to hurt her.”
“You already have.”
“How?”
Mom laughed once, but there was no humor in it.
“You really want to do this here?”
“Yes.”
“Of course you do.”
The bakery owner cleared her throat.
“If you people are going to have some kind of domestic situation, take it outside.”
Daniel turned toward her.
“You should stay out of this.”
She gave a bitter laugh.
“That’s funny coming from you.”
Mom grabbed my hand.
“Come on, Lily.”
I stayed where I was.
“Mom.”
“We’ll talk in the car.”
“No.”
She froze.
I almost never said no to my mother like that.
But I was confused, embarrassed, and suddenly angry.
I had walked into that bakery wanting a cupcake.
Now a stranger was asking if I was his daughter.
“Who is he?”
Mom’s grip tightened.
Daniel answered quietly.
“My name is Daniel Mercer.”
“I know your first name.”
He took a breath.
“I knew your mother a long time ago.”
“How long?”
“Before you were born.”
I turned toward Mom.
She was crying.
I knew because her breathing changed whenever she tried to hide tears.
“Mom?”
“I’m sorry.”
Those words scared me more than anything else.
“What are you sorry for?”
Daniel whispered, “Sarah, please.”
She snapped.
“You don’t get to say please.”
“Then yell at me. Hit me. Hate me. But answer the question.”
Several customers had stopped pretending not to listen.
Mom lowered her voice.
“Yes.”
Daniel stopped breathing for what felt like forever.
“Yes what?” I asked.
Mom knelt in front of me.
Her hands came up and held my face.
“He’s your biological father.”
The floor seemed to disappear.
I took one step backward.
My cane struck the leg of a chair.
A woman gasped.
Daniel reached toward me, but Mom blocked him.
“Don’t touch her.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Don’t.”
I swallowed.
“My father is dead.”
Mom made a broken sound.
That was what she had always told me.
My father had died before I could remember him.
There were no photographs.
No grave she ever took me to.
No stories except that he had been kind and that sometimes life took good people too early.
I had believed every word.
“You said he died.”
“I know.”
“You said he died.”
“I know, Lily.”
Daniel whispered, “You told her I was dead?”
Mom stood.
“What was I supposed to tell her?”
“The truth!”
“The truth almost destroyed me!”
His voice dropped.
“What truth?”
Mom didn’t answer.
I started crying.
Not loudly.
That almost made it worse.
“Were you ever going to tell me?”
She turned back toward me.
“When you were older.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
“Ten?”
“No.”
“Twelve?”
“Lily—”
“Eighteen?”
She had no answer.
Daniel sounded like he was trying not to fall apart.
“How old is she?”
Mom laughed through her tears.
“You can do the math.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
“She turned eight in June.”
Eight.
I heard Daniel take two shaky steps backward.
“I left Boston eight years and nine months ago.”
Mom said nothing.
“And you were pregnant.”
“Yes.”
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
The word came out like a knife.
Daniel’s voice rose.
“You knew when I left?”
“No.”
“When did you find out?”
“Three weeks later.”
“And you never called me?”
“I tried.”
Everything changed again.
Daniel went still.
“What?”
“I called you.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes, I did.”
“I had the same number for years.”
“I didn’t call your cell.”
“Then who?”
Mom hesitated.
That hesitation seemed to frighten him.
“Sarah.”
“I called your mother.”
Daniel’s voice changed completely.
“My mother?”
“She answered.”
“What did she say?”
Mom looked toward me.
“Not here.”
Daniel spoke through clenched teeth.
“What did my mother say?”
“Daniel.”
“Tell me.”
Mom’s voice became very quiet.
“She told me you were engaged.”
He laughed in disbelief.
“I wasn’t.”
“She said you had gone to London to start a new life.”
“I went to London because my father transferred me there after you disappeared.”
“I didn’t disappear.”
“You stopped answering me.”
“Because your mother told me to.”
Another silence.
Daniel sounded sick.
“What else did she say?”
Mom whispered, “She said you knew about the baby.”
“What?”
“She said you didn’t want it.”
Daniel slammed his palm against the counter.
Several people jumped.
I did too.
He immediately turned toward me.
“I’m sorry. Lily, I’m sorry.”
Mom wrapped an arm around me.
Daniel’s next words were barely audible.
“My mother told you I knew?”
“Yes.”
“And that I didn’t want my child?”
“Yes.”
“That is a lie.”
“I know that now.”
“What do you mean now?”
“Because you’re standing here looking like someone just tore your heart out.”
Daniel made a choking sound.
He moved toward the door.
Then stopped.
“What else?”
Mom didn’t answer.
“Sarah, if there is anything else, I need to know.”
“There is.”
My chest hurt.
I wanted everyone to stop talking.
But I also needed them to keep going.
Mom said, “Your mother came to see me.”
Daniel turned around.
“She what?”
“She came to my apartment.”
“When?”
“When I was almost five months pregnant.”
“What did she want?”
“She brought papers.”
The bakery owner was silent now.
So were the customers.
Daniel asked, “What papers?”
“A confidentiality agreement.”
He swore under his breath.
“She offered me money.”
“How much?”
“Two hundred thousand dollars.”
Daniel inhaled sharply.
“I didn’t take it.”
“I know you wouldn’t.”
“You don’t know anything about what I would do. You weren’t there.”
“You’re right.”
Mom’s voice cracked.
“I was twenty-four, pregnant, scared, and alone. Your mother sat in my apartment and told me your family would destroy me if I tried to trap you with a baby.”
Daniel whispered, “Oh my God.”
“She knew where I worked. She knew where my mother lived. She knew how much money I had in my bank account.”
“Sarah—”
“She told me if I contacted you again, your family’s attorneys would make sure I regretted it.”
“Why didn’t you go to the police?”
“And say what? A rich woman scared me?”
“You could have found me.”
“I tried.”
“How?”
“I sent letters.”
Daniel went silent.
“Three of them.”
“I never got them.”
“I know.”
“How do you know?”
“Because one came back opened.”
His breathing changed.
Mom continued.
“It wasn’t returned by the post office. It was inside another envelope. No note. Just my letter, opened.”
Daniel said nothing.
I could feel Mom trying not to cry harder.
Then he asked, “Why didn’t you try again?”
Mom put both hands around mine.
“Because Lily was born.”
That answer sounded strange.
Daniel must have thought so too.
“What does that mean?”
Mom’s voice became smaller.
“At first, she was healthy.”
I knew what was coming.
I hated hearing this story.
“When Lily was four, she developed a severe infection.”
Daniel’s voice softened.
“She said she’s been blind since four.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“The infection damaged both optic nerves. We spent months going between specialists.”
Daniel whispered my name again.
I hated the pity in his voice.
“I’m fine,” I said.
Both adults became silent.
“I can hear you feeling sorry for me.”
Daniel crouched somewhere in front of me.
“I’m not feeling sorry for you.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No.”
“Then what?”
He took a long breath.
“I’m angry that there were four years of your life when you could see and I missed every one of them.”
My throat tightened.
“And I’m angry there were four years after that when you learned how to live differently, and I missed those too.”
Mom began crying again.
Daniel said, “I missed all eight.”
I didn’t know what to say.
So I asked the only thing that seemed important.
“If you knew about me, would you have wanted me?”
Daniel answered instantly.
“Yes.”
“You didn’t even think.”
“I don’t need to.”
“You don’t know me.”
“No.”
“Maybe I’m annoying.”
A strange sound escaped him.
Half laugh.
Half sob.
“I hope you are sometimes.”
“I talk too much.”
“I’d listen.”
“I hate peas.”
“So do I.”
I frowned.
“Really?”
“Really.”
For the first time since Mom entered the bakery, something inside me loosened.
Then the owner’s phone rang.
She answered it.
“Hello?”
Her voice changed.
“Oh.”
A pause.
“Yes, Mrs. Mercer.”
Daniel stood so fast his shoe scraped the floor.
My mother went completely still.
The bakery owner swallowed.
“Yes. He’s here.”
Daniel spoke with terrifying calm.
“Who is that?”
The owner didn’t answer him.
Daniel stepped closer.
“Give me the phone.”
“No.”
“Give me the phone.”
She backed away.
Then she said into the receiver, “I think they know.”
My mother whispered, “Daniel.”
The bakery owner dropped the phone.
Daniel picked it up.
“Mother?”
I heard nothing from the other side.
Then Daniel said, “You have ten seconds to tell me why the owner of a bakery I randomly walked into has your private phone number.”
The bakery owner suddenly ran for the back door.
Mom shouted.
“Stop her!”
Daniel grabbed the counter edge and vaulted around it.
A metal tray crashed.
Customers yelled.
I clung to Mom.
Seconds later, Daniel returned.
The owner was protesting.
“Let go of me!”
“I’m not touching you,” Daniel snapped. “You can leave whenever you want. But the police are going to want the security footage.”
Her voice became sharp.
“There is no footage.”
Daniel looked around.
“There are three cameras.”
“They don’t record.”
One of the customers spoke up.
“That’s a lie.”
Everyone turned.
A teenage employee stood near the kitchen.
Her voice trembled.
“They record everything.”
The bakery owner hissed, “Megan, shut your mouth.”
The girl continued.
“And Mrs. Mercer called this morning.”
My mother squeezed my hand.
Daniel said, “What did you say?”
The employee swallowed.
“She told Ms. Collins to watch for a woman named Sarah Bennett.”
Daniel’s voice became ice.
“And a little blind girl.”
My mother gasped.
The employee started crying.
“She sent a photograph.”
The bakery went silent again.
Daniel asked, “A photograph of who?”
“Lily.”
My blood turned cold.
Mom pulled me against her.
Daniel’s voice dropped.
“Where did she get a photograph of my daughter?”
Nobody answered.
May you like
Then the bakery owner finally said something.
“She’s been watching them for years.”
