Chapter 14: The Sister Who Had My Father's Eyes
My father sat down on Margaret's porch steps.
He didn't say a word.
He simply stared at the phone in my hand, as though the voice coming through it had reached inside his chest and taken something he couldn't get back.
I pressed the phone to my ear.
"Lillian?""
"Yes.""
Her voice sounded like mine, only softer.
"I found your number in an envelope my adoptive father left behind. He died last month. Before he died, he told me my birth certificate wasn't the original.""
I swallowed.
"Where are you?""
"Charleston. I'm at home.""
"Can we come see you?""
There was a long silence.
"Are you really Emily Hayes Carter?""
"Yes.""
"And Michael Carter is your father?""
I looked at Dad.
He raised his head slowly.
"Yes," I whispered.
Lillian began to cry.
"I've spent my whole life wondering why I didn't look like anyone in my family. My parents loved me, but my father always said there was something he couldn't explain about my adoption. He kept telling me that when I turned eighteen, he'd give me the truth.""
She took a shaky breath.
"He died before my eighteenth birthday.""
Margaret stepped closer, listening.
I closed my eyes.
"Lillian, I don't know everything yet. But I know our mother loved us. I have photographs of us together when we were babies.""
There was a sharp intake of breath.
"You have pictures?""
"Yes.""
"Can you send me one?""
I took a picture of the photograph on Margaret's desk and sent it to her.
Seconds later, my phone vibrated.
Lillian had received it.
Then she called again.
"Emily," she whispered, "that's me. That's the yellow bracelet. My father had a picture of that bracelet in his desk.""
I looked toward Dad.
He was standing now, staring out into the darkness.
"Can you tell me anything about our mother?"" I asked.
Lillian hesitated.
"My adoptive father told me that my biological mother had been afraid someone would separate us. He said she'd tried to keep us together, but the hospital records had been changed.""
My stomach tightened.
"Did he ever mention Vanessa Carter?""
"Yes.""
Everyone on the porch went still.
"What did he say?""
Lillian's voice trembled.
"He said Vanessa was the person who brought me to their house. She told them my mother had died and that my father had signed away his parental rights.""
Dad closed his eyes.
I looked at him.
"Is that true?""
He shook his head.
"No. I never signed anything giving up either of my daughters.""
Lillian heard him.
"Who is that?""
"That's Michael. Our father.""
She began crying harder.
For seventeen years, I had believed I was the only child my father had ever raised.
Now I was speaking to a sister who had spent her entire life wondering why she had been given away.
"Emily," Lillian whispered, "there's something else.""
"What?""
"My adoptive father left me an envelope. He told me not to open it until I found my biological family.""
She paused.
"I'm opening it now.""
We waited while she tore the paper.
I heard several pages rustling.
Then her voice changed.
"Oh, my God.""
"What is it?"" I asked.
"It's a letter from your mother.""
My heart lurched.
"Read it.""
Lillian took a shaky breath.
To my precious daughter, Lillian,
If you are reading this, I hope you are safe, loved, and old enough to understand why I couldn't protect you myself.
Your father never agreed to give you away. Michael loved you before you were born, and he would have loved you every day of your life.
Someone used my fear against me. Someone convinced me that keeping one child with me and sending the other away would protect you both from a dangerous situation.
I believed that person.
I was wrong.
I could barely breathe.
Lillian continued.
Vanessa told me she had arranged a temporary placement for you. She promised that you would be returned to us once the legal dispute was resolved.
But when I went back to collect you, the records had been changed. The hospital said you had already been released to another guardian.
I never stopped looking for you.
Lillian's voice broke.
I covered my mouth with my hand.
My mother hadn't simply disappeared.
She had spent years searching for the daughter she believed had been taken from her.
Dad knelt beside the porch steps, his face buried in his hands.
"I should have known," he whispered.
"I should have questioned everything.""
I sat beside him.
"We'll find her, Dad.""
He looked at me.
For the first time since this nightmare began, I saw something beyond grief in his eyes.
Hope.
Then Lillian spoke again.
"There's one more page.""
She read the final lines.
If my daughters are ever reunited, tell them this: the man who helped Vanessa alter the records wasn't their grandfather alone.
Lillian stopped.
I felt my stomach twist.
"Who else?""
She turned the paper over.
A name was written at the bottom.
Daniel Brooks.
Dad stood abruptly.
"That bastard.""
But before he could say anything else, another message appeared on Madison's phone.
Bring Emily and Lillian to the house tonight. If you refuse, I'll make sure neither of you ever sees Catherine again.
The sender was Vanessa.
Madison looked up, tears streaming down her face.
"She's got Mom.""
Margaret shook her head.
"How could she have Catherine?""
Madison pressed her trembling fingers against the screen.
"Because I heard them talking last week. Mom was planning to meet Catherine before prom, and Vanessa found out where she was staying.""
Dad grabbed his keys.
"Where?""
Madison showed him the message thread.
A location appeared beneath it.
Our house in Atlanta.
But there was another message, sent only minutes earlier.
Tell Michael to come alone. If he brings the police, Catherine will disappear for good.
Dad stared at the screen.
"We're not going alone.""
I looked at Madison.
"Call Daniel. Tell him we have the letters and the original records. Ask him to bring the police.""
Madison nodded and hurried inside.
I turned back to Lillian.
"Can you come to Atlanta?""
"Yes," she whispered.
"Then come. We're going to find our mother.""
As Dad opened the car door, my phone buzzed again.
A photograph appeared on the screen.
It showed a woman sitting in our living room, her hands folded tightly in her lap.
Her face was thinner than in the old photographs. Her hair was streaked with gray.
But I recognized her immediately.
My mother.
May you like
Beneath the picture, Vanessa had written one sentence.
Come home, Emily. Your mother has something to confess.
