Chapter 2 - WHAT HE MEANT
Nobody moved.
Then Vivian gave a short, brittle laugh.
“Richard means the resemblance.
He’s upset.”
“That is not what he said.”
My voice sounded strange.
Flat.
Almost calm.
For nineteen years, I had imagined finding my daughter in airports, grocery stores, crowds.
I had never imagined finding her while my husband looked afraid.
Richard reached for my elbow.
“Let’s speak privately.”
I stepped away.
“No.”
Clara backed toward the doorway.
“I should go.”
The fear in her voice cut through everything else.
I had grabbed her.
Opened something precious.
Dragged her into a room full of strangers arguing over her life.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
She stopped.
“I shouldn’t have touched you without asking.”
Richard’s jaw tightened.
“Caroline—”
“I’m talking to her.”
I faced Clara.
“You don’t owe us anything.
You can leave.
You can stay.
But if you’re willing, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
Vivian folded her arms.
“This girl arrived today.
Now she’s wearing your missing child’s necklace.
Surely you can see how convenient that is.”
Clara’s expression changed.
Fear remained, but something harder rose beneath it.
“I didn’t ask her to notice.”
“People sell family photographs,” Vivian said.
“Old jewelry turns up online.”
Arthur closed the album.
“Mrs. Whitmore, shall I bring your phone?”
It was a small sentence.
It gave me something solid.
“Yes.”
Richard looked at him sharply.
Arthur went anyway.
“What’s your foster mother’s name?” I asked.
“Ruth Mercer.”
“Where did you grow up?”
“Mostly outside Dayton.”
Ohio.
My daughter had vanished from a lakeside charity picnic in northern Illinois.
The police had searched the water for nine days.
They had never found her.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-three.”
Vivian reached for her wineglass again.
Her hand missed the stem.
I saw it.
So did Clara.
Arthur returned with my phone.
I called Naomi Bell, the attorney who had handled my mother’s estate and, later, every attempt I’d made to reopen Clara’s case.
She answered on the second ring.
“I need you here,” I said.
“And I need the name of a laboratory that can establish maternity.”
Richard turned away.
Naomi asked one question.
“Is everyone safe?”
I looked at Clara.
“I don’t know yet.”
Clara swallowed.
“Before you call anyone else, there’s something you should see.”
From her uniform pocket, she took a folded envelope.
“My mother gave me this last month.
She said it was why I should come here.”
On the front, in faded black ink, was my address.
May you like
Under it were six words.
IF SHE ASKS, TELL HER EVERYTHING.
