Chương 3
“Tell me about my mother.”
Emily looked toward the watch.
“I don’t know where to start.”
“With how you knew her.”
“She was my mother.”
“I know what you said.”
The edge in Claire’s voice surprised all three of them.
Emily’s shoulders drew inward.
Claire put a hand over her eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
“No. You should ask.”
“I don’t know what I should ask.”
Daniel sat beside Claire on the sofa, leaving space between them.
Claire looked again at Emily.
“When did you meet her?”
Emily hesitated.
Claire caught it.
“Meet her?”
“I was adopted.”
The answer did not make the room easier.
“My parents are Susan and David Carter. They live outside Annapolis. They adopted me when I was three days old.”
Claire slowly sat.
Emily rubbed her thumb across the edge of her uniform cuff.
“I knew I was adopted. They never hid it. When I was eighteen, I requested the non-identifying records. There wasn’t much. Age. Medical history. That my birth mother had one previous child.”
Claire stared at her.
“One previous child.”
“A girl.”
“How old?”
“Thirteen months older.”
Claire was thirteen months older than Emily.
Daniel looked at Claire.
She did not look back.
Emily continued.
“The adoption was closed. At least that was how I understood it. A few years ago Maryland changed some access rules, but my situation was complicated because of the date and the way the records were filed. I didn’t get a name from the agency.”
“So how did you find her?”
“A DNA site.”
Claire’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Emily saw it.
“I know how that sounds.”
“It sounds normal.”
“It didn’t feel normal.”
Emily looked down at her hands.
“I matched with a second cousin. She had the Bennett name in her tree. I spent about six months pretending I wasn’t doing anything with that information. Then one night I couldn’t sleep, and I started searching.”
“What year?”
“Three years ago.”
Claire leaned forward.
“My mother died fourteen months ago.”
“I know.”
That answer hurt in a way Claire had not expected.
Emily winced.
“Sorry.”
“No, I asked.”
“I found her before she got sick. Or before she knew she was sick.”
Claire’s throat tightened.
“You met her.”
“Yes.”
“How many times?”
“I don’t know. Twenty? Maybe more.”
Claire looked away.
Daniel reached for her hand.
She did not take it.
There were versions of grief Claire had already survived.
The first call from the hospital.
Her mother’s diagnosis.
The small plastic bag holding Laura’s jewelry after she died.
The funeral director speaking too gently.
The absurd argument Claire had with her aunt Judith about whether Laura would have wanted lilies.
Now grief opened another room inside itself.
Her mother had possessed an entire relationship Claire had never known existed.
Emily said, “She wanted to tell you.”
Claire laughed once.
It was not amusement.
“Apparently not very much.”
Emily was quiet.
Daniel glanced between them.
“Claire.”
“No. It’s fine.”
Again that word.
Fine.
Claire stood and walked to the vanity.
She picked up the watch.
The crystal had a fresh scratch from hitting the marble.
She ran her thumbnail lightly across it.
“My aunt said this was buried with her.”
Emily’s eyes lifted.
“Judith?”
Claire turned.
“You know Judith?”
“I met her once.”
“When?”
“After Laura died.”
Claire felt the room tilt in a new direction.
“Why?”
Emily pressed her lips together.
“Because she came to my apartment.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“What did she want?”
Emily looked only at Claire.
“She wanted the watch.”
Claire’s hand closed around it.
“What?”
“She said your mother had promised it to you.”
“My mother had promised it to me.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
Emily flinched.
Claire hated herself for it and did not take the words back.
Emily stood.
“I should leave.”
“Wait.”
“I don’t think this is the place.”
“Neither do I, but apparently this is where we are.”
Emily looked toward the door.
Claire could see her calculating the distance to it.
“Please.”
Emily remained standing.
Claire softened her voice.
“Please sit down.”
After a moment, Emily sat.
Claire remained by the vanity.
“Why did Judith think you had it?”
“Because Laura told her.”
“So Judith knew.”
“Yes.”
“And she told me the watch was in my mother’s casket.”
Emily’s face changed.
“I didn’t know that.”
Claire believed her.
That frightened her more than if she had not.
Daniel asked, “What exactly did Laura tell you about Claire?”
Emily rubbed her palms on her skirt.
“Not enough.”
Claire glanced at him.
Daniel nodded for Emily to continue.
“She told me I had a sister. She told me your name was Claire. She showed me one picture.”
“What picture?”
“You were maybe ten. You had braces.”
“I didn’t have braces at ten.”
“Then maybe twelve.”
“That sounds right.”
“You were holding a soccer trophy.”
Claire sat again.
She had hated soccer.
Her father had forced her to finish the season because he believed quitting was a habit rather than a decision.
She had scored exactly one goal in three years.
Her mother had treated it like an Olympic achievement and made her pose with the trophy in their driveway.
Claire had forgotten the photograph existed.
“What did she say about the rose?”
Emily looked at the watch.
“She said you drew it.”
Claire said nothing.
“She said the jeweler kept trying to fix it.”
The bent fifth petal.
Claire’s stomach tightened.
“She made him copy it exactly,” Emily said.
That had happened.
Laura had told Claire the story years later, laughing about the jeweler insisting the engraving would look better if he corrected the proportions.
Claire suddenly wanted her mother alive so badly it felt like anger.
Not for comfort.
For questioning.
For blame.
For one more chance to demand why.
Daniel asked, “Did Laura give you any documents?”
Emily looked at him.
“Some.”
“What kind?”
“Letters. A copy of the adoption paperwork she had. A picture of me when I was a baby.”
May you like
Claire’s head came up.
“She kept one?”
