Chapter 3: The Daughter I Never Knew Existed
For several seconds, I couldn't make sense of the words.
She was yours.
I looked at the photograph again, searching Emily's face for something I had missed. A clue. A shadow. Some indication that the woman I had loved for eight years had carried a secret large enough to divide my life into everything before this moment and everything after it.
“Mom,” I whispered, “what did you just say?””
Margaret began to cry.
“Daniel, please let me explain.””
“No. You don't get to say something like that and then ask me to be patient.””
“I know.””
“Emily had a child with me before we got married?””
“Yes.””
“How?””
My voice sounded strange, distant, as if another man were asking the questions.
“Was there someone else? Did she cheat on me?””
“No,” my mother said quickly.
“No, Daniel. She didn't.””
“Then how could I have a child with a woman I didn't know yet?””
There was a long silence.
Finally, Margaret said, “You met Emily once before you remember meeting her.””
I sat down slowly.
“What does that mean?””
“You were twenty-five. You had just graduated and were working for that architecture firm downtown. You went to a charity fundraiser with your father. You had too much to drink, and you left before midnight.””
“I remember the fundraiser.””
“You don't remember Emily?””
“No.””
“She was there with her cousin. You spoke for most of the evening.””
I rubbed my forehead.
“I don't remember.””
“You were grieving your father then. You'd been drinking. You weren't yourself.””
“That doesn't answer my question.””
“No,” she whispered.
“It doesn't.””
I stood and walked to the window.
Outside, a delivery truck rolled past our house. A neighbor was watering the flowers beside her porch. Somewhere down the street, a child shouted with laughter.
The world continued.
My world had become unrecognizable.
“Did Emily know she was pregnant?””
“Yes.””
“When?””
“Several weeks later.””
“And she never told me?””
“She tried to contact you.””
I turned sharply.
“What?””
“She called your office. She wrote letters. She came to our house.””
I stared at the phone.
“You're telling me the woman I married had my child, tried to contact me, and you knew about it?””
Margaret sobbed.
“I made a terrible mistake.””
“You made a choice.””
“I thought I was protecting you.””
“From your own daughter?””
“I didn't know what else to do.””
I felt anger rise through the shock.
“Tell me everything.””
My mother took a long breath.
“Emily came to see me when she was about five months pregnant. She told me she had tried to reach you, but you had changed jobs and moved apartments. She didn't know where you were.””
“Why didn't she call you again?””
“She did. I told her you were engaged to someone else.””
I froze.
“I was never engaged to anyone else.””
“I know that now.””
“Mom, what did you tell her?””
My mother's voice became almost inaudible.
“I told her you had moved on. I told her you didn't want a child with her.””
The room seemed to shrink around me.
“You lied to her.””
“Yes.””
“And then you lied to me.””
“Yes.””
I gripped the back of my chair.
“Why?””
“Because I was afraid.””
“Of what?””
“That you'd throw your life away trying to fix something you didn't remember. You were struggling, Daniel. You were barely functioning after your father died. I thought a child would destroy you.””
I laughed bitterly.
“So you decided the best solution was to make sure my daughter grew up without me?””
“I thought Emily would find someone who could give her a better life.””
“And did she?””
My mother didn't answer.
“Did she, Mom?””
“I don't know.””
I looked down at the photograph.
“What's the child's name?””
Margaret inhaled shakily.
“Grace.””
The name settled between us.
Grace.
A little girl who might have my eyes. My stubborn chin. My habit of tapping a pencil against my teeth when I concentrated.
A daughter who had existed for years without knowing I was alive.
“Where is she?””
“I don't know.””
“You don't know?””
“Emily told me she was giving her up for adoption. She said it was the only way to give her a stable home.””
“Was Michael involved?””
“Not at first. He came into the picture later.””
I rubbed both hands over my face.
“Why would Emily give her up?””
“She was alone. She believed you didn't want her. She was young, frightened, and convinced she couldn't manage everything by herself.””
“And you let her believe that.””
“I was wrong.””
The words were so small compared with what she had done.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw the photograph against the wall. I wanted to call Emily and demand an explanation, knowing perfectly well that no answer would ever come.
Instead, I asked the question that frightened me most.
“Did she ever try to find Grace again?””
My mother hesitated.
“I think she did.””
“What does that mean?””
“About two years after you married, Emily received a letter. I remember because she called me in tears. She said Grace was doing well.””
I closed my eyes.
“Who sent the letter?””
“I don't know.””
“Did Emily tell me?””
“No.””
“Why?””
“By then, you had built a life together. You had a mortgage, a baby on the way, and a future. She thought telling you would destroy everything.””
I opened my eyes.
“A baby on the way?””
“Lily.””
I looked toward the stairs.
My daughter had spent her entire life believing she was our only child.
And now I was learning that her mother had carried another little girl into the world, then lived with the secret until the day she died.
“What happened to Grace?”” I asked.
“I don't know, Daniel.””
“Do you know where Emily gave birth?””
Margaret was quiet for a moment.
Then she said, “St. Catherine's Hospital. I drove her there.””
I wrote the name down.
“Did you ever meet Grace?””
“No.””
“Did you ever see a photograph?””
“No.””
“Did you keep anything?””
My mother began to cry harder.
“There was a letter.””
I sat up.
“What letter?””
“Emily gave it to me the day she went to the hospital. She told me to keep it in case Grace ever came looking for her.””
“Where is it?””
“I still have it.””
“Mom, I need you to bring it to me.””
“I can come tomorrow.””
“Today.””
“Daniel—”
“Please.””
The word escaped before I could stop it.
My mother agreed.
We ended the call, and I remained seated at my desk, staring at the photograph.
A few minutes later, I heard footsteps on the stairs.
Lily appeared in the doorway, dragging her stuffed rabbit by one ear.
“Daddy?””
I immediately put the letter away.
“Hey, sweetheart. What's wrong?””
“Can I sleep in your room tonight?””
“Of course.””
She climbed into my lap.
“Are you sad because of Mommy?””
I wrapped my arms around her.
“A little.””
“Did I make you sad?””
“No, baby. Never.””
She considered that.
“Vanessa said Mommy had a secret because she didn't love us enough.””
My blood ran cold.
I kept my voice gentle.
“Vanessa shouldn't have said that.””
“Did Mommy love us?””
I pressed my lips against her forehead.
“Your mommy loved you more than anything in the world.””
“Then why did she leave?””
There was no easy answer.
I held her closer.
“Sometimes grown-ups make mistakes, sweetheart. Sometimes they get scared and don't know how to fix things. But none of that means they stop loving their children.””
Lily was quiet for a long time.
Then she whispered, “I think Vanessa was scared too.””
I pulled back enough to see her face.
“Why do you think that?””
“Because when I found the picture, she got really mad. She said if Daddy found out about Grace, everything would be ruined.””
My heart stopped.
“Grace?””
Lily nodded.
“She said the name was supposed to stay a secret.””
I stared at my daughter.
“How do you know that name?””
“She said it when she was on the phone.””
“When?””
“Yesterday. I was getting my shoes from the hallway, and she was in your office.””
I felt a chill crawl up my spine.
Vanessa hadn't stumbled across Emily's secret by accident.
She knew about Grace. She had been in my office, searching through my wife's belongings. She had taken the photograph and used it to frighten my daughter into silence.
But why?
“What else did you hear?”” I asked.
Lily thought carefully.
“She said, 'He can't know what happened at the hospital.'' Then she said someone was coming to see her.””
“When was this?””
“Yesterday afternoon.””
I held my daughter, trying to keep my face calm.
“Did she say who was coming?””
Lily shook her head.
“No. But she said she had to make sure you never found out.””
I looked at the closed office door.
The ring box was still in the drawer.
Yesterday, I had been planning to spend the rest of my life with Vanessa Cole.
Today, I was beginning to understand that she had been hiding something from me long before I ever considered putting a ring on her finger.
My phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
I answered cautiously.
“Hello?””
A woman's voice came through, quiet and strained.
“Is this Daniel Mercer?””
“Yes. Who is this?””
“My name is Rachel Bennett. I work at St. Catherine's Hospital.””
I sat straighter.
“What can I do for you?””
“I was given your number by someone who said you were looking for information about a child born here many years ago.””
My grip tightened around the phone.
“Grace?””
Silence.
Then the woman whispered, “Yes.””
I stood so quickly that Lily slid off my lap.
“Where is she?””
“I can't discuss confidential patient information over the phone.””
“Please. I need to know if she's alive.””
“I understand.””
“Do you?””
My voice cracked.
“She's my daughter.””
The woman fell silent.
Then she said, “Mr. Mercer, there's something you need to understand before you come here.””
“What?””
“The adoption record was sealed, but someone requested access to it six months ago.””
My stomach tightened.
“Who?””
“I can't tell you over the phone.””
“Was it Vanessa Cole?””
The silence lasted too long.
“Mr. Mercer,” she said finally, “you need to come to the hospital as soon as possible.””
“Why?””
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“Because the person who requested that file wasn't trying to find Grace.””
I looked toward the staircase, where my daughter stood clutching her rabbit.
“Then what were they trying to find?””
Rachel hesitated.
May you like
Then she gave me an answer that made my blood run cold.
“They were trying to make sure Grace could never find you.””
