Chapter 6: The Address on the Photograph
I couldn't process what my father had just said.
“Someone we both knew?””
He nodded, his eyes fixed on the photograph.
“Claire wanted Lily to grow up somewhere safe. Someone agreed to take her.””
“Who?””
He looked toward Vanessa.
She gave a tiny shake of her head.
It was almost imperceptible.
But I saw it.
“Dad, who raised my sister?””
He took a long breath.
“Your mother's cousin, Margaret.””
Eleanor frowned.
“Margaret Carter?””
“No. Margaret Hayes. Claire's cousin. She lived outside Savannah.””
Daniel rubbed his forehead.
“Then why didn't Mom just tell us?””
“Because Margaret wanted the adoption to remain private. She couldn't have children of her own, and Claire thought Lily would have a stable home.””
I looked at the blue dress.
“Did Mom visit her?””
“Sometimes. Before we married.””
“Did she ever try to bring her home?””
My father hesitated.
That hesitation answered everything.
“Yes,” he said.
My voice broke.
“When?””
“About a year before you were born. Margaret refused. She said Lily was her daughter now.””
I reached for the cutting table.
The room seemed suddenly smaller.
My mother had known where her first daughter was. She had known she was growing up somewhere, celebrating birthdays, learning to read, taking her first steps.
And she had still made dresses for her.
“Why didn't you tell me?””
Dad's face tightened.
“Because Claire asked me to wait until you were older.””
“You had twenty-three years.””
“I was trying to keep the family together.””
I let out a bitter laugh.
“You mean the family you created by keeping us apart?””
Vanessa stepped forward.
“Emily, your father did what he believed was necessary.””
I turned toward her.
“Stop defending him.””
She folded her arms.
“You have no idea what happened in this house before you were old enough to remember.””
“Then tell me.””
She glanced at the door.
Eleanor caught the movement.
“Vanessa, don't even think about leaving.””
My stepmother's composure finally broke.
“You people think everything is so simple. Claire had a perfect little world built around her sewing. Richard was expected to fund everything. When she became ill, there were debts, lawyers, medical bills, and an estate nobody could manage.””
Eleanor's voice sharpened.
“Then why were the transfers made to your private company?””
Vanessa looked at the floor.
My father stepped between them.
“That's enough.””
“No,” I said.
“It isn't.””
I picked up the letter my mother had written.
“She knew about the money. She knew you were keeping Lily away. And she was trying to tell you to stop.””
Dad looked at me.
“Your mother was dying, Emily. She was terrified of leaving you behind. I made promises I couldn't keep.””
“Did you love her?””
His face crumpled slightly.
For one moment, I saw the father I remembered from childhood. The man who used to carry me on his shoulders, who had stood beside Mom's hospital bed with red eyes and shaking hands.
Then he spoke.
“I loved her.””
I held his gaze.
“Then why did you destroy everything she left us?””
He didn't answer.
Daniel walked toward the back wall, where a metal filing cabinet stood beneath a shelf.
“What's this?””
My father moved immediately.
“Don't touch that.””
Daniel pulled the top drawer.
It was locked.
He tried the brass key from the hidden room, but it didn't fit.
I examined the cabinet.
At the bottom of the drawer was a narrow brass plate. The initials were almost invisible beneath the dust.
C.C.
Claire Carter.
I remembered the button in my pocket.
The one with Mom's initials and the inventory number.
I pulled it out.
The number was 214.
Daniel examined the cabinet's lock.
“Try it.””
I held the button against a tiny slot beside the drawer.
It fit.
There was a faint click.
The drawer slid open.
Inside were dozens of folders, photographs, and letters arranged by year.
At the top lay a thick envelope with my mother's handwriting.
For my daughters. To be opened together.
I felt my throat tighten.
Daniel carefully removed it.
“This is it.””
He placed the envelope on the table.
My father stepped toward us.
“Don't open that.””
I stared at him.
“Why?””
“Because some things can't be undone.””
I tore the envelope open.
Inside were two letters.
One addressed to me.
The other addressed to Lily.
I opened mine first.
My sweet Emily,
If you're reading this, then I have failed to give you the childhood I wanted you to have. I hope you have grown into a woman who understands that love is not measured by how much of yourself you sacrifice for others.
There is something you must know.
Your father promised to protect both of my daughters. I believed him. But as my illness progressed, I discovered he had been making decisions without my permission.
I asked him to return what belonged to you and Lily.
He refused.
I stopped reading.
My hands were trembling.
Daniel took the letter and continued quietly.
I have kept copies of every document. The original records are in this room.
But there is one thing Richard does not know I have preserved.
I looked toward the bottom of the page.
There was a final paragraph.
The woman who raised Lily isn't the only person who knows the truth about her adoption.
I turned the page.
A name was written in bold handwriting.
*VANESSA CARTER.*
I looked up.
Vanessa had gone completely white.
“What does that mean?”” I asked.
She didn't answer.
Eleanor picked up the second letter, the one addressed to Lily.
She opened it carefully.
The first sentence made her gasp.
“What's wrong?”” Daniel asked.
Eleanor looked at my father.
Then she turned the letter toward us.
My darling Lily,
There is something about the day you were born that nobody has ever told you.
Margaret did not take you alone.
Someone else was there.
Someone who knew exactly who you were.
At the bottom was a photograph.
It showed a much younger Margaret standing outside a hospital, holding a newborn baby.
Beside her stood another woman.
A woman with dark hair and unmistakable eyes.
Vanessa.
I looked at my stepmother.
She backed away from the table.
“You were there?”” I whispered.
She shook her head.
“You don't understand.””
“Were you there when my sister was born?””
Her lips parted.
Then she looked directly at my father.
May you like
And in a voice barely louder than a whisper, she said:
“I wasn't just there, Emily. I was the reason your mother never got to bring Lily home.””
