Chapter 11: The Baby in My Wife's Photograph
I read the words again.
Then a third time.
The child is yours.
My mind rejected them before I could even begin to understand them.
Eleanor and I had one child: Daniel. He was thirty-seven years old, and I had watched him take his first steps, lose his first tooth, graduate from high school, and stand beside his mother at her final hospital visit.
I had never known of another baby.
I looked at the photograph.
Eleanor appeared younger, perhaps in her late thirties. Richard stood beside her with one hand resting on the hospital bed. The newborn was wrapped in a pale blanket.
On the back, beneath the first sentence, Eleanor had written a date.
Twenty-nine years earlier.
Daniel was not the only child born into my family that year.
I slowly lowered myself into the chair.
“Thomas,” I said, “what is this?””
He looked as though he had been waiting years for me to ask.
“Richard told me that Eleanor gave birth to a baby girl. She believed the child had died shortly after delivery.””
“Believed?””
Thomas nodded.
“The hospital told her the baby had complications. Eleanor was heavily sedated. She never saw the child.””
I stared at him.
“Why would she think the baby was mine?””
Thomas swallowed.
“Because she was married to you. But Richard believed the baby had been conceived during an affair.””
Brittany rose abruptly.
“That's impossible.””
Everyone turned toward her.
She looked from the photograph to Thomas, then back to me.
“My father never told me anything about a baby.””
Thomas's expression softened.
“He may not have known the entire truth.””
I gripped the letter.
“Did Eleanor have an affair with Richard?””
Thomas hesitated.
“I can't answer that with certainty. I know they were close. I know Richard helped her after the birth. And I know she spent years searching for the child.””
My chest tightened.
Eleanor had never told me she was pregnant again.
She had never mentioned another hospital visit or another baby.
Yet I remembered a week in the autumn of 1997 when she had gone to stay with her sister, claiming she needed time away from the stress of our business.
I had believed her.
I had trusted her.
And now I was holding a photograph that suggested our marriage had contained an entire life I knew nothing about.
Daniel stood near the motel door, his face drained of color.
“Dad, if the baby was born twenty-nine years ago, then she would be about my age.””
I nodded.
He looked at Brittany.
“Why would this involve your father?””
Brittany slowly sat down.
“Because my mother told me something once. She said Dad had a child before I was born, but she refused to explain what happened.””
Thomas closed his eyes.
“Richard told Margaret about the baby after he recovered from the accident. He believed Michael had used the hospital records to blackmail Eleanor.””
“Blackmail her with what?”” I demanded.
“Evidence that the child had survived.””
Silence settled over the room.
I stared at the photograph again.
“If the baby survived, where is she?””
Thomas looked at Brittany.
“I think you're looking at her.””
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Brittany let out a short, disbelieving laugh.
“No.””
Thomas reached into his bag and pulled out another document.
It was a photocopy of a birth record, partially faded around the edges. The mother's name was Eleanor Hayes.
The child's name was listed as *Rebecca Cole*.
Brittany shook her head.
“My name is Brittany Bennett Hayes.””
“Brittany Bennett was the name you used after your first marriage,” Thomas said.
“You were adopted as an infant. Your adoptive parents gave you the name Brittany.””
She looked as though she might faint.
“My mother was Margaret.””
“Margaret raised you,” Thomas replied.
“But she wasn't your biological mother.””
Brittany backed away from the table.
“No. She told me she gave birth to me.””
“Because she loved you. Richard asked her to raise you after the hospital situation became dangerous.””
I looked at the photograph.
The baby in Eleanor's arms had the same small cleft in her chin that Brittany had.
I had noticed that feature a hundred times without ever connecting it to anything.
“Why would Richard arrange this?”” I whispered.
Thomas answered quietly.
“Because Eleanor believed someone was watching the hospital. Richard feared the child would be used against both of you. He thought hiding her with Margaret was the safest way to protect her.””
Brittany pressed both hands against her mouth.
“Are you saying Frank is my biological father?””
Thomas didn't answer immediately.
“The documents suggest that possibility. But the records are incomplete. You need a DNA test before anyone can establish that conclusively.””
I stared at her.
The woman who had tried to take my house might be my daughter.
The woman who had manipulated Daniel might be my child.
The woman who had torn her blouse and accused me of assault might have spent her entire life searching for a father she believed was dead.
But none of those possibilities erased what she had done.
I stood.
“I need air.””
Daniel followed me outside.
The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the motel parking lot. A truck roared past on the highway, and somewhere nearby, a dog barked.
I leaned against the car.
Daniel stood beside me.
“Dad, what are you going to do?””
“I don't know.””
“Do you believe her?””
“I believe the documents need to be verified.””
He looked toward the motel room.
“If she's your daughter, then everything changes.””
I turned toward him.
“No, son. The truth may change our family. It doesn't change what happened in my living room.””
Daniel lowered his eyes.
“I know.””
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he said, “I keep thinking about how quickly I believed her when she said you attacked her.””
I watched him carefully.
“You can't undo that.””
“I know. But I can stop making decisions before I know the truth.””
It was the first sensible thing he had said since the day he punched me.
Before I could respond, Helen came out of the motel.
“Frank, we need to talk.””
She held up the birth record.
“The hospital listed a second document attached to the original file. Thomas says he never saw it, but the reference number is still visible.””
“What does it say?””
Helen looked at me.
“The child was transferred to a private clinic before the adoption was finalized. Someone authorized the transfer using your signature.””
My stomach tightened.
“Michael?””
Helen shook her head.
“No. The signature matches Eleanor's.””
She paused.
“And there's a second name on the document. The person who received the baby was not Margaret Cole.””
“Who was it?””
Helen turned the paper toward me.
The name written beneath the transfer authorization was one I knew.
One I had trusted for years.
May you like
One I had never imagined could be connected to the disappearance of a child.
*Thomas Reed.*
