Chapter 3
I couldn’t speak.
For thirty-four years, the word mother had meant one person.
Evelyn.
The woman sitting ten feet away from me.
The woman who packed my lunches.
Held my hand in emergency rooms.
Cheered at my graduation.
Cried at my wedding.
Now a stranger on the phone was using the same word.
“I know this is too much,” Anna said.
“You think?”
My voice sounded harsher than I intended.
She went silent.
I closed my eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
“No. You have every right.”
“How did you get my number?”
“Rachel gave it to me.”
I looked at my wife.
She stood near the doorway.
“She asked permission to contact you today,” Rachel said quietly. “I told her I couldn’t keep this from you anymore.”
Mom stood.
“Hang up.”
I turned toward her.
“What?”
“Michael, please.”
Anna heard.
“Is Evelyn there?”
My mother’s face changed.
Fear.
Anger.
Something older.
I put the call on speaker.
“Yes.”
Anna took a shaky breath.
“Hello, Evie.”
Nobody called my mother Evie.
Her sister apparently had.
Mom whispered, “You said you wouldn’t contact him.”
“I said that thirty-four years ago.”
“You signed an agreement.”
“I was twenty-two and terrified.”
“You took the money.”
Anna laughed bitterly.
“My money.”
Mom looked away.
I stepped between the phone and her as if that mattered.
“Enough.”
Both women went quiet.
“I need answers.”
Anna said, “I’ll answer anything.”
Mom shook her head.
“She will tell you her version.”
“Then you can tell me yours.”
My mother looked hurt.
It made me angry that I still cared.
“Where are you?” I asked Anna.
“At a motel in Franklin.”
“Why a motel?”
“I don’t live here anymore.”
“Where do you live?”
“Louisville.”
“Why did you come back now?”
Silence.
Then she said, “Because Thomas is dead.”
Dad.
I flinched.
“He’s been dead six years.”
“I know.”
“Then why wait?”
“Because I was still afraid of him.”
I stared at nothing.
The father I remembered had been loud when he laughed, impatient in traffic, obsessive about cutting the lawn.
Not frightening.
“What did he do to you?”
Anna’s breathing changed.
“Not over the phone.”
“Why not?”
“Because you deserve to see my face when I tell you.”
Mom grabbed her purse.
“I’m leaving.”
“No.”
She froze.
It was the first time in my life I had spoken to her like that.
“You don’t get to disappear now.”
Her eyes filled.
“I need air.”
“You had thirty-four years of air.”
Rachel whispered, “Michael.”
I looked at her.
She wasn’t defending Mom.
She was warning me about myself.
My anger.
My voice.
The man I had become for a few minutes that afternoon.
I lowered it.
“Please sit down.”
Mom slowly did.
I spoke to Anna again.
“I’ll meet you.”
“Michael, no,” Mom said.
I ignored her.
“When?”
“Tonight.”
Rachel immediately said, “Not alone.”
I looked at her.
She held my gaze.
“You don’t know this woman.”
“She’s my biological mother.”
“That doesn’t mean you know her.”
She was right.
I hated how much I needed her while she was preparing to leave me for the night.
“Come with me.”
Rachel shook her head.
“I don’t think I should.”
“Why?”
“Because this needs to be yours.”
I wanted to argue.
Then I remembered her cheek.
I stopped.
Rachel picked up her bag.
“I’ll stay at Megan’s with Lily.”
“Can I see Lily?”
“Of course.”
“You’re not taking her from me?”
Her expression softened for the first time.
“No.”
Then she added, “But she doesn’t need to see us fighting.”
That hurt because it was true.
After Rachel left, Mom and I sat in silence.
Finally I asked, “Did Dad force Anna to give me up?”
Mom’s face twisted.
“At first, no.”
“What does that mean?”
“When you were born, Anna didn’t know how she was going to support you.”
“And you did.”
“We had a house. Thomas had his company. I wanted a child more than anything.”
“So you offered to raise me.”
“She agreed.”
“Temporarily?”
Mom looked down.
I already knew.
“She thought it might be temporary.”
“And you?”
“I knew the moment you came home with me that I could never give you back.”
My throat tightened.
“You were not a puppy.”
“I know.”
“She was my mother.”
“I know.”
“You knew she might want me back.”
Mom started crying.
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“Three months later, she did.”
I stared at her.
“And?”
“Thomas refused.”
“What did you do?”
“I supported him.”
There it was.
No excuse.
No softening.
“What happened to Anna?”
“She threatened to go to court.”
“Why didn’t she?”
“Thomas controlled the money.”
“What money?”
“The inheritance from our father.”
“You were trustee?”
“No. Thomas handled the investments.”
My jaw tightened.
“Why would Grandpa let Thomas handle Anna’s inheritance?”
“He trusted him.”
Apparently everyone had trusted the wrong person.
“Thomas convinced Anna that if she took us to court, he would prove she was unstable.”
“Was she?”
“No.”
Mom’s answer came quickly.
“She was grieving. Scared. Angry.”
“But not unstable.”
“No.”
“What did he threaten?”
“He had a doctor who would say she had severe emotional problems.”
I felt sick.
“Was that doctor real?”
“Yes.”
“Was the diagnosis?”
“No.”
My father had been willing to fake medical evidence to keep me.
“Did you know?”
Mom nodded.
I stood.
I couldn’t sit anymore.
“You helped him steal me.”
She covered her face.
“I loved you.”
“Stop saying that like it fixes things.”
“I don’t know what else to say.”
“Say the truth.”
“I was selfish!”
She suddenly shouted.
I froze.
Mom cried openly.
“I wanted a baby. I wanted you. I told myself Anna was young and would build another life. I told myself we could give you more.”
She looked at me.
“And after enough years, I stopped telling myself anything. You were my son.”
I couldn’t breathe for a second.
Because that was the worst part.
She was still my mother.
Whatever papers said.
Whatever blood said.
Whatever terrible things she had done.
The love was real.
And so was the betrayal.
Both could exist.
I hated that.
At seven that evening, I drove to Franklin.
Anna was waiting outside a modest motel.
I knew her instantly.
Not because I had seen a photograph.
Because she had my eyes.
Or I had hers.
She was sixty.
Silver threaded through dark brown hair.
She wore jeans and a blue sweater.
Her hands shook when I got out of the car.
For a long moment, neither of us moved.
Then she smiled through tears.
“You look like Thomas.”
I almost turned around.
She saw my reaction.
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
I swallowed.
“I probably do.”
She nodded.
“You have my eyes.”
That was easier.
We sat at a small table outside her room.
Anna didn’t try to hug me.
I appreciated that.
“Why did you contact Rachel?”
“I didn’t know how to contact you without Evelyn intercepting.”
“I’m thirty-four.”
“I know how ridiculous that sounds.”
“Yes.”
“She had answered one of my letters two years ago.”
“What?”
My pulse jumped.
“You contacted her two years ago?”
Anna nodded.
“What did she say?”
“That you knew everything.”
I stared at her.
“She told you I knew you were my biological mother?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“She said you wanted nothing to do with me.”
My stomach turned.
Mom had lied to both of us.
“Do you have the letter?”
Anna went into her room.
She returned with a worn envelope.
I recognized Mom’s handwriting immediately.
Anna handed it to me.
The letter said:
Anna,
Michael knows the circumstances of his birth.
He considers Thomas and me his parents.
He has no desire to reopen old wounds.
Please respect his decision.
Evelyn.
My hands shook.
“I never knew.”
Anna nodded.
“I know that now.”
“How?”
“Rachel.”
I looked toward the parking lot.
“When did you contact her?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“How?”
“I found her business page online.”
Rachel owned a small interior design company.
“What did you tell her?”
“Almost nothing at first. Just that I was family.”
“And she believed you?”
“No.”
That sounded like Rachel.
“She made me prove it.”
“How?”
Anna smiled faintly.
“Your wife asks a lot of questions.”
Another thing I loved about her.
Another thing I had forgotten when I hit her without asking one.
“She asked for birth records. Old photographs. Letters.”
“You have those?”
Anna pulled another envelope from her bag.
Inside was a photograph of her holding a newborn baby.
Me.
On the back:
Michael Thomas Hale.
August 17.
My legal last name was Carter.
I looked up.
“Hale?”
“My last name.”
I traced the writing.
Dad stood in the background of another photograph.
Younger.
Smiling.
Evelyn was beside him.
I was wrapped in Anna’s arms.
Three people looking at one baby.
None of them seemed to know what would happen next.
“What about the money?”
Anna’s face hardened.
“Thomas controlled most of my inheritance.”
“How much?”
“My father left me a little over four hundred thousand.”
Thirty-four years ago.
That was enormous.
“What happened to it?”
“Thomas said he invested it.”
“Did he?”
“Some.”
“And the rest?”
She looked at me.
“Your education.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“Private school. College. Your first car.”
My skin went cold.
“Dad told me he paid for those.”
“He did.”
“With your money.”
“Yes.”
I stood.
“I didn’t know.”
“I know.”
“I swear.”
“Michael.”
“I never would have taken—”
She touched my arm for the first time.
“I know.”
I sat again.
Anna pulled out bank statements.
“Thomas set up an account in your name when you were twenty.”
“The account Rachel found.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He promised it would eventually return what was left of my inheritance to you.”
“Why me?”
“Because by then he knew what he had done to both of us.”
My throat tightened.
“So the money in that account belongs to you.”
“Not anymore.”
“What does that mean?”
“Thomas created a settlement agreement.”
“What agreement?”
“If I stayed away from the family, the remaining money would eventually become yours.”
“That sounds like bribery.”
“It was.”
“And you signed?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Anna looked down.
“Because by then you were fourteen.”
I froze.
“You came back when I was fourteen?”
“I tried.”
My chest hurt.
“I stood across the street from your school once.”
I stared at her.
“I watched you get into Evelyn’s car.”
Her eyes filled.
“You were laughing.”
She wiped her face.
“I thought dragging you into our mess might destroy the life you had.”
“So you left again.”
“Yes.”
I didn’t know whether to thank her or scream.
Instead I asked, “Who withdrew the six hundred thousand?”
Anna’s expression changed.
“That is why I came back.”
“What?”
“I didn’t.”
“I know.”
“Evelyn says she didn’t take all of it.”
I frowned.
“All?”
“Some withdrawals have her authorization.”
“How much?”
“About one hundred eighty thousand.”
My stomach dropped.
“What did she use it for?”
“She says medical bills after Thomas got sick.”
Dad had cancer before he died.
Insurance hadn’t covered everything.
I remembered Mom selling jewelry.
I remembered thinking they were struggling.
“Why didn’t she tell me?”
“Because the account wasn’t hers to use.”
“And the other four hundred thousand?”
Anna looked at me.
“I think someone else took it.”
“Who?”
She reached into her bag.
Then handed me a photograph.
Dad stood outside an office building.
Beside him was a man I knew.
David Mercer.
My parents’ attorney for almost twenty-five years.
The man who handled Dad’s estate.
The man who helped Rachel and me buy our house.
The man who drafted the forged transfer document currently sitting on my kitchen table.
Anna whispered, “Thomas wasn’t the only person who knew the truth.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did Mercer do?”
“He handled every agreement between us.”
“And?”
“I believe he stole from the account.”
“Then why is Mom trying to transfer my house instead of calling police?”
Anna stared at me.
“Because Mercer has been blackmailing her.”
I felt cold.
“With what?”
“With the truth about you.”
I almost laughed.
“That secret is already out.”
Anna shook her head.
“That isn’t the secret he’s threatening to expose.”
I leaned forward.
“What else is there?”
Her eyes filled again.
“Michael, your father didn’t die believing you were his only child.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
May you like
Anna swallowed.
“You have a brother.”
