Chapter 6: What Happened Before I Left
The words made no sense.
I looked at Richard, then at Jennifer.
“What are you talking about?””
Richard shook his head, as though he regretted speaking.
“I shouldn't have said that.””
“No,” I replied.
“You're going to finish what you started.””
Jennifer stood so quickly that her chair scraped backward.
“Richard, don't.””
He turned toward her.
“You've had twelve years to tell the truth.””
“And you've had twelve years to stay out of it!””
Emily stepped between them.
“Stop talking like I'm not here!””
Her voice cracked across the auditorium.
Both adults fell silent.
Emily held the photograph in one hand and the letter in the other.
“I have a graduation diploma waiting for me. I have scholarships to apply for, a future to plan, and a father who drove four hours to watch me walk across a stage. Instead, I'm standing here learning that my mother may have hidden an entire child from me.””
She looked at Jennifer.
“And now I'm learning that Dad was hospitalized the night I was born?””
Jennifer lowered her eyes.
“Yes.””
I gripped the back of a chair.
“Why?””
She pressed her fingers against her forehead.
“You were in a car accident.””
The auditorium seemed to grow smaller.
I remembered the accident.
At least, I remembered fragments.
Rain on the windshield. Headlights sliding across wet pavement. The sound of glass breaking. Someone shouting my name.
I'd been driving home from the hospital after Jennifer's delivery. She had insisted I leave because she needed rest and the nurses wouldn't let me stay overnight.
I remembered waking up in a hospital bed several days later with a concussion and a fractured wrist.
Jennifer had told me I had been unconscious for nearly forty-eight hours.
She'd said Emily was safe and healthy.
She'd also told me I had been confused and aggressive after the crash, and that the doctors had advised her to keep stressful information away from me.
I had believed her.
“You told me I was unconscious for two days,” I said.
“You were.””
“What else happened?””
Jennifer's eyes filled with tears.
“You were transferred to another hospital. You needed surgery.””
“For what?””
“Internal bleeding.””
I looked at the photograph again.
The two babies. Jennifer in the hospital bed. My wristband.
“Where was Emily?””
“With me.””
“And the other baby?””
She didn't answer.
Richard moved toward the stage.
“Jennifer, tell him.””
She shook her head.
“I can't.””
“You can,” he replied.
“You just don't want to.””
Emily stared at him.
“What do you know?””
Richard took a long breath.
“When I met your mother, she told me she had once been married to a man who became violent after the birth of their child. She said he had been in an accident and had suffered memory problems.””
My stomach tightened.
“I was never violent.””
“I know that now,” Richard said quietly.
Jennifer interrupted.
“He was different after the accident!””
“I had a concussion!””
“You threw things!””
“I couldn't remember what day it was!””
“You frightened me!””
The argument echoed through the auditorium, but something had changed.
Jennifer wasn't defending herself anymore.
She was reaching for a story that had once protected her and discovering that the pieces no longer fit.
Richard rubbed his face.
“She told me that during Michael's hospitalization, the hospital had discovered a serious problem with one of the babies. She said the doctors believed the child might not survive.””
Jennifer stared at him.
“Stop.””
“I believed her,” Richard continued.
“She said the baby died before Michael woke up.””
Emily's lips parted.
“You're saying my twin brother died?””
Richard shook his head.
“No. I'm saying that's what your mother told me.””
Jennifer began crying harder.
I stepped toward her.
“Did our son die?””
She looked at me.
For a moment, I saw the woman I'd married at twenty-four. The woman who used to fall asleep on my shoulder during long drives. The woman who had held my hand when my father died and promised we'd never let anything come between us.
Then she looked away.
“I don't know.””
The answer hollowed me out.
“You don't know whether our child is alive?””
She shook her head.
“I was told he died.””
“By whom?””
“Someone at the hospital.””
“Who?””
“I don't remember!””
“You remember everything else when it helps you, Jennifer. You remember the arguments, the mistakes, the nights I worked late. But you can't remember who told you our son died?””
She covered her face.
Emily reached for my hand.
I held it tightly.
For twelve years, I'd believed the worst thing Jennifer had done was convince our daughter that I had abandoned her.
Now I understood that the lie had begun long before I walked out of our house.
It had begun in a hospital room, while I was unconscious and unable to defend myself.
The principal approached us carefully.
“Mr. Carter, perhaps we should contact the authorities and arrange for everyone to speak privately.””
Richard nodded.
“I agree.””
Jennifer suddenly grabbed his arm.
“No police.””
He pulled away.
“Why not?””
“Because this is a family matter.””
Emily stared at her.
“Family matters are exactly why we're here.””
Jennifer's face hardened.
“You have no idea what will happen if you start asking questions.””
Emily took a step back.
“Is that a threat?””
“No! I'm trying to protect you.””
“From what?””
Jennifer looked toward me.
Then she looked at Richard.
Neither man spoke.
Finally, she whispered, “From the people who took him.””
My entire body went cold.
“Who took our son?””
Jennifer began shaking her head.
“I never saw them again.””
“Who?””
She squeezed her eyes shut.
“A woman came to the hospital after your accident. She said she was there to help. She told me the baby needed to be transferred to another facility.””
“Which facility?””
“I don't know.””
“Did you sign anything?””
Jennifer nodded.
“What did you sign?””
“A temporary medical consent form.””
Richard stepped closer.
“Jennifer, you told me you signed an adoption agreement.””
She looked at him in horror.
“I never said that.””
“You said the child had been placed with another family because Michael couldn't raise him.””
“I never said Michael knew!””
The words escaped before she could stop them.
The auditorium went silent.
I stared at her.
“You knew I didn't know?””
Jennifer covered her mouth.
Emily slowly released my hand.
“Mom,” she whispered, “what did you do?””
Jennifer looked at her daughter, then at me.
And finally, she said the words that would haunt me for the rest of my life.
“I thought I was giving him a better chance.””
I felt my knees weaken.
“You gave away our son?””
“I thought he was dying!””
“But you never told me!””
“You were unconscious!””
“And after I woke up?””
Jennifer began sobbing.
“I was afraid.””
“Afraid of what?””
She looked at Richard.
“Afraid you'd find out who had really arranged the transfer.””
Richard stepped backward.
“Don't you dare.””
Emily stared at him.
“Arranged what?””
Jennifer's voice dropped to a whisper.
“The person who came to the hospital wasn't a nurse. She wasn't a doctor. She was someone Richard had known for years.””
Richard's face turned white.
“That isn't true.””
Jennifer shook her head.
“You told me you could get the baby the treatment he needed. You said you knew people who could help.””
“I was trying to save him!””
“You told me to sign the papers!””
“I never told you to give him away!””
Emily looked from one to the other.
“You both knew my brother existed.””
Neither answered.
Then Jennifer reached into her handbag and pulled out a small, folded piece of paper.
“I kept this because I knew one day someone would ask.””
She placed it in Emily's hand.
It was a hospital transfer receipt, dated the morning after my accident.
At the bottom, beneath the receiving facility's name, was a signature.
Richard's.
Emily looked up slowly.
“Why did you sign a transfer document for my brother?””
Richard backed toward the auditorium doors.
“I can explain.””
But before he could say another word, Emily unfolded the receipt completely.
A second name was written beneath his signature.
The name of the person who had authorized the transfer.
I read it once.
Then again.
My breath stopped.
Because the name belonged to someone I had buried fifteen years earlier.
May you like
My father.
And if he had signed a document the morning after Emily was born, then the man I'd spent fifteen years believing was dead had somehow been involved in the disappearance of my son.
