Part 13
“She’s never had one.”
Paula glanced at Lily.
“You weren’t supposed to tell people that.”
“Why?”
Paula had no answer.
Claire looked at Lily’s bare neck, where the locket chain had rested.
“Did you want to be the flower girl?”
Lily shrugged.
“My mom wanted me to.”
“What did you want?”
“The cake.”
Paula covered a laugh with her hand.
Claire’s mouth tightened into a brief smile.
“It’s a good cake.”
“Is it canceled?”
“No. You should eat it.”
“Can I have the flowers?”
“All of them?”
Lily considered the question seriously.
“Maybe the little ones.”
“You can have the little ones.”
The child looked at the locket.
“Can I have that too?”
Claire’s smile disappeared.
“I don’t know.”
Lily nodded as though she had expected no better answer.
Daniel returned.
His face was composed, but the tips of his ears were red. Public speaking always did that to him, even when his voice remained steady.
“How bad?” Claire asked.
“They think there’s a medical emergency.”
“I told you they would.”
“I didn’t say medical.”
“Someone else did.”
“Probably my brother.”
Daniel’s younger brother worked in emergency medicine and diagnosed catastrophe whenever a person left dinner early.
“Did anyone ask whether I ran away?” Claire said.
“Yes.”
“What did you say?”
“That you were here.”
“Did anyone ask whether you wanted to run away?”
“Yes.”
Despite everything, Claire laughed softly.
“What did you say?”
“That I had already paid for the suit.”
Richard smiled and looked down.
Even Ruth’s mouth moved, though she suppressed it quickly.
Daniel sat beside Claire.
“I also told them we would contact everyone privately.”
“We?”
He looked at her.
“Yes.”
The answer carried no demand. Only a refusal to abandon the shared pronoun before they had decided what it meant.
Claire reached for his hand.
She stopped before touching it.
Daniel noticed but did not close the distance for her.
“What does your family know about St. Matthew’s?” she asked.
“Nothing that I’m aware of.”
“Were you born there?”
“No. County General.”
“Your mother?”
“I don’t know.”
Ruth turned toward him.
“What was her maiden name?”
Daniel’s expression chilled.
“Why?”
“Answer her,” Claire said.
He looked at her, surprised.
She hated the request as she made it, but the locket had turned every ordinary fact into potential evidence.
“Rowan was her maiden name,” he said. “My father took it when they married.”
Ruth’s face did not change.
“Her first name?”
“Marianne.”
“Middle name?”
“Evelyn.”
The room went silent.
Claire stared at him.
Daniel’s concern became confusion.
“What?”
Ruth looked away too quickly.
Claire felt the world narrow to his face, the face she had watched across restaurant tables, hospital waiting rooms, the passenger seat on long drives. Dark hair. Gray-blue eyes. A slight asymmetry in his smile. Features she had studied for intimacy, never evidence.
“Did my mother know your mother?” Claire asked.
“Not that I know.”
“Your mother died when you were eleven.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“At home.”
“From what?”
Daniel’s brow tightened.
“You know this.”
“I want to hear it.”
“An aneurysm.”
“Do you have photographs of her?”
“Of course.”
“Recent ones?”
“Recent before she died.”
“Infant pictures?”
“I don’t know. Probably at my father’s house.”
Ruth stood.
“This is exactly what I feared.”
Claire turned toward her.
“What?”
“You are building relationships from coincidences.”
“My mother’s name was not Evelyn,” Daniel said. “It was her middle name.”
Ruth said, “And millions of women have that name.”
Daniel looked at her.
“No one asked you to defend it.”
Claire felt sick.
He saw.
“Claire, my mother grew up in Pennsylvania. Your mother grew up here.”
“Was she adopted?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“She never discussed her childhood. Her parents were dead before I was born.”
Ruth closed her eyes.
Richard stared at his sister.
“What do you know?”
“Nothing.”
Daniel stood.
“What do you know about my mother?”
“Nothing.”
“You reacted to her name.”
“Because Claire is about to convince herself you are part of this.”
Claire flinched.
Daniel did not.
He stepped closer to Ruth, still controlled, still careful.
“I asked a direct question.”
“And I answered.”
“No. You repeated a word.”
Claire watched his hands. Both remained open at his sides. He had never been physically threatening in anger. He became quieter, which some people mistook for calm.
Ruth looked at him fully.
“Did your mother have a mark beneath her left ear?”
Daniel’s expression changed.
Claire stopped breathing.
“What kind of mark?” he asked.
“A small crescent. Pale. Almost like a burn.”
His eyes moved toward the crescent scratch on the back of the locket.
Claire saw the connection before anyone spoke.
Daniel touched the place beneath his own left ear.
“My mother had a scar there.”
Ruth sat down.
Richard whispered, “My God.”
Lily began twisting the bouquet stems between her hands.
Claire looked at Daniel.
He had gone pale beneath the warm light.
“What caused it?” she asked.
“She said she cut herself on a broken mirror when she was a child.”
Ruth shook her head.
“What?”
“That was what Evelyn’s sister was told.”
The words entered the room without explanation.
Daniel’s eyes narrowed.
“Who told you that?”
“Evelyn.”
“When?”
“Years ago.”
“Why would she tell you about a stranger’s scar?”
“She was trying to locate her.”
Daniel looked at the locket, then at Claire.
“No.”
The word was not denial of fact. It was refusal of implication.
Claire understood. Her own mind had already moved toward possibilities she could not bear to name. Daniel’s mother could have been Evelyn’s lost sister. Or another person entirely. Names repeated. Scars resembled each other. Old women misremembered. Damaged records invited stories.
Yet Ruth had asked about the scar before Daniel mentioned it.
“Was my mother’s sister named Marianne?” Claire asked.
Ruth’s eyes filled.
“She was given another name after the placement.”
“Was it Marianne?”
“We never proved it.”
Daniel stepped back.
May you like
The room seemed suddenly unable to contain him.
Claire rose, but her train caught beneath the table. The fabric pulled at her waist and stopped her. She bent awkwardly, trying to free it.
