Part 9
Daniel accepted the paper without unfolding it at first.
“Did she say how long to wait?”
“Until after the wedding.”
“The wedding isn’t happening,” Ruth said.
Claire turned on her.
Lily’s face crumpled.
Daniel opened the paper. A name and number had been written in blue ink.
“Anna Hart,” he read.
Paula shook her head.
“Nora doesn’t have a sister named Anna.”
Richard stood again.
“Let me see.”
Daniel held out the paper.
Richard read it and went completely still.
Claire watched the recognition cross his face.
“Who is she?”
He did not answer.
“Dad.”
Richard handed the paper back.
“I knew an Anna Hart a long time ago.”
“How long?”
“Before you were born.”
Ruth moved toward him.
“Richard.”
He looked at his sister.
Something passed between them, old and bitter.
Claire felt the next question before she formed it.
“Did Mom know her?”
Richard lowered himself into the chair.
“Yes.”
Ruth said, “This is not the time.”
“It is the only time we have,” Claire replied.
Daniel looked at the paper.
“Should I call her?”
Richard rubbed his forehead.
“I don’t know.”
Claire stared at him.
“You don’t get to not know anymore.”
His hand dropped.
“No,” he said. “I suppose I don’t.”
He looked toward Lily, then seemed to remember she could hear every word.
“Anna worked with Evelyn at St. Matthew’s.”
“The hospital?”
“It used to have a maternity residence attached to it. Before the main building was renovated.”
Claire knew the name from old donation plaques. Her mother had been a social worker before Claire was born, though she rarely spoke about the job.
“What did Anna do?”
“She was a nurse.”
“And Nora?”
“I never met Nora.”
“Is Anna her mother?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then how do you know the name?”
“Because Anna disappeared.”
Ruth made a disgusted sound.
“She moved.”
Richard looked at her.
“You told us she moved.”
“She did.”
“You told me she went to Oregon.”
“That was what Evelyn believed.”
“No. That was what you told Evelyn after you took the call.”
Claire looked between them.
“What call?”
Ruth folded her arms.
“This is ancient family nonsense with no relevance to your wedding.”
Daniel’s voice was quiet.
“A child arrived with Claire’s mother’s locket and a phone number belonging to a woman you both knew. It’s relevant.”
Ruth’s gaze sharpened at him.
“You know nothing about this family.”
“Neither does Claire, apparently.”
The restraint in his voice made the sentence land harder.
Claire looked at him. For the first time, his anger was visible.
Not at her.
The distinction mattered.
Richard leaned back and stared at the ceiling.
“Anna called the house once,” he said. “Claire was an infant. Evelyn had gone out. Ruth answered.”
“I was helping,” Ruth said.
“What did Anna want?” Claire asked.
“I never spoke to her.”
“You were there?”
“I came home while Ruth was on the phone.”
Ruth’s face hardened.
“She was hysterical.”
“She was crying.”
“She had no right to call.”
“What did she say?”
Ruth turned away.
Richard answered.
“She said someone had changed the agreement.”
Claire’s skin prickled.
“What agreement?”
“I don’t know.”
“You never asked Mom?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“She told me Anna was upset about a former patient.”
Ruth laughed softly.
“Because that was the truth.”
Richard’s eyes stayed on Claire.
“Evelyn would not discuss it. Two weeks later, Anna’s number was disconnected.”
Claire looked down at the locket.
Two damaged photographs.
Two girls.
A promise kept until they were old enough.
Her mother had worked at a maternity residence. A woman had called after Claire’s birth and accused someone of changing an agreement.
None of it formed a complete truth. The fragments were worse than an explanation because each could support several stories, and every story carried a different injury.
Daniel held the folded number between two fingers.
“I’m calling.”
Ruth moved toward him.
Claire stepped between them.
Her aunt stopped close enough that Claire could smell her perfume, the same powdery rose scent she had worn at Evelyn’s funeral.
“Let him,” Claire said.
“You have no idea what you’re inviting into your life.”
“It’s already here.”
“Not everything hidden is a betrayal.”
“Then what was this?”
Ruth looked at the locket.
For one second, she seemed older than sixty-seven. Not frail. Simply tired of holding something that had grown heavier instead of lighter.
“I was trying to keep the wrong people from claiming you.”
Claire’s breath stopped.
Richard rose.
“What does that mean?”
Ruth’s face closed again.
“I have said too much.”
“You haven’t said enough,” Claire replied.
Daniel dialed the number.
Everyone listened.
One ring.
Two.
A woman answered on the third.
“Hello?”
Her voice was low and guarded.
Daniel put the call on speaker but kept the volume down.
“Is this Anna Hart?”
A pause.
“Who is this?”
“My name is Daniel Rowan. I’m with Lily.”
The woman inhaled sharply.
“Is she safe?”
“Yes.”
“Where is Nora?”
“We don’t know.”
Another pause, longer this time.
“What happened?”
Claire moved closer to the phone.
“She gave Lily a locket.”
No response came.
Claire continued.
“My name is Claire Mercer.”
The line went so quiet she thought the call had ended.
Then Anna said, “Oh.”
Not surprise. Not confusion.
Recognition.
Claire sat on the arm of the sofa.
“Do you know who I am?”
“Yes.”
“Have we met?”
“No.”
“Do you know my mother?”
“I did.”
Ruth reached for Daniel’s phone.
He moved it away.
Anna heard the disturbance.
“Is Ruth there?”
Claire looked at her aunt.
“Yes.”
“Then take Lily somewhere Ruth can’t reach her.”
Ruth’s face reddened.
“That is outrageous.”
Anna’s voice changed.
“Ruth.”
They had known each other well enough for the name to contain history.
“You have no right to involve a child,” Ruth said.
“I didn’t.”
“Nora did.”
“No. You did, six years ago.”
May you like
Lily had stood in the adjoining doorway. At the sound of her mother’s name, she came closer.
Claire held out a hand to stop her from entering the center of the room. The gesture was instinctive, not forceful. Lily stopped beside the doorframe.
