Chapter 4: The Baby My Mother Buried
“Grandma said I wasn't the first Noah.””
My son's words seemed to suck all the air out of the garden.
I looked down at him.
“What did you say, buddy?””
Noah rubbed his eyes with his tiny fists.
“Grandma showed me a picture. She said my other brother went to sleep and didn't wake up.””
My mother staggered backward.
“That's enough, Noah.””
I turned toward her.
“Don't you dare tell him to stop.””
“Ethan, he's confused. He's only three.””
“Then explain what he's talking about!””
Mom's hands trembled. Her birthday necklace had twisted sideways, and one of her earrings was missing. She looked nothing like the elegant woman who'd welcomed guests into her garden an hour earlier.
Claire stood beside the cellar entrance.
She hadn't moved since confessing she'd locked the door.
I pointed at my mother.
“Which baby did you bring home from the hospital?””
She began shaking her head.
“Please, Ethan.””
“Answer me!””
Mom looked at Noah.
Then she looked at me.
“The first baby died.””
My chest tightened.
“What first baby?””
“Emily gave birth to twins.””
For a moment, I couldn't understand the words.
“Twins?””
Mom nodded.
“A boy and a girl. They were born prematurely. The little girl survived, but the boy…”
She covered her mouth.
I remembered Noah's birth.
I remembered the nurses wheeling Emily away.
I remembered being told there had been complications, but that our son was healthy.
Nobody had mentioned another baby.
“Why wasn't I told?””
Mom wiped her eyes.
“Your father arranged everything.””
“My father was dead when Noah was born.””
“No,” she whispered.
“He wasn't.””
The world seemed to tilt.
I grabbed the edge of the garden table.
“That is impossible.””
Mom shook her head.
“Your father died eight years ago. But the man who came to the hospital that night wasn't your father. It was his brother, Richard.””
I stared at her.
“My uncle?””
She nodded.
“Your father had an identical twin. You were told Richard died overseas when you were young.””
I remembered a photograph in my grandmother's house. Two identical men standing beside a vintage car.
I'd always assumed they were my father and a friend.
“Where is he now?””
Mom looked toward the cellar.
“He's the reason Emily disappeared.””
A crash came from inside the house.
Daniel shouted.
“Ethan! Someone's trying to get through the front door!””
I turned.
Two guests were already rushing toward the driveway. Another was holding a phone to her ear, speaking urgently to emergency services.
Then the cellar door moved.
A pale hand appeared in the darkness.
I nearly collapsed.
“Ethan,” a woman whispered.
I stepped closer.
“Emily?””
The hand gripped the edge of the staircase.
A woman slowly emerged into the yellow light.
Her hair was shorter than I remembered. Her face was thinner, almost skeletal. There were dark circles beneath her eyes, and a long scar crossed her left cheek.
But her eyes were unmistakable.
Emily.
My Emily.
She looked at me.
For three years, I'd imagined what I would say if I ever saw her again.
I'd imagined anger.
Questions.
Accusations.
Instead, I fell to my knees.
“Emily…”
She reached for my face.
“You're here.””
I grabbed her hand and pressed it against my forehead.
“Where have you been? What happened?””
She looked past me.
At Claire.
Her expression changed.
“You married her.””
I couldn't answer.
Emily glanced at Noah.
And suddenly, she began crying.
“My baby.””
Noah slipped out of Daniel's arms and ran toward her.
“Mommy!””
Emily dropped to her knees.
They embraced.
She buried her face in his hair, kissing his forehead, his cheeks, and his little hands.
“I missed you,” she whispered.
“I missed you so much.””
Noah touched her scar.
“Did somebody hurt you?””
Emily closed her eyes.
“Yes, sweetheart.””
“Was it Claire?””
Emily looked up.
Claire finally spoke.
“I never wanted you to die.””
Emily laughed bitterly.
“You had three years to change that.””
I stood between them.
“Both of you. Tell me what happened.””
Emily held Noah close.
“Your father discovered that I was pregnant with twins. He had been stealing money from the family business for years. He was using false identities and opening accounts under other people's names.””
I frowned.
“What does that have to do with the babies?””
“Your father believed one of the children was going to inherit a trust your grandfather had created. He wanted control of it.””
Mom interrupted.
“That's not true. Richard wanted to protect the money.””
Emily looked at her.
“Protect it? You helped him forge the medical records.””
Mom went silent.
Emily continued.
“The boy was born alive. I held him. I heard him cry. But Richard told everyone he'd died.””
I felt sick.
“Where is he?””
Emily's eyes filled with tears.
“They took him.””
My mother began shaking.
“Richard said the baby needed specialized care. He promised we'd see him again.””
“Mom,” I whispered.
“What did you do?””
She looked down.
“I signed the paperwork.””
The admission was barely audible.
Emily continued.
“I found out the truth two days later. I discovered that the hospital records had been changed and the boy had been transferred under another name.””
“Why didn't you call the police?””
“I tried.””
She looked toward Claire.
“That's when I discovered someone had been following me.””
Claire stepped forward.
“Emily, please.””
Emily's voice became sharp.
“Don't.””
I looked between them.
“What did Claire have to do with it?””
Emily swallowed.
“Claire was working for Richard.””
My stomach dropped.
Claire closed her eyes.
Emily continued.
“She was supposed to watch me. She was supposed to report everything I did. When I found the documents, she told Richard.””
Claire finally broke.
“I was twenty-six! I had debts. He threatened my family.””
Emily stared at her.
“And you helped him lock me in a cellar.””
Claire began sobbing.
“I thought you were dead!””
Emily tightened her arms around Noah.
“You thought wrong.””
I looked at the cellar.
“Why didn't you escape?””
Emily's expression changed.
“Because I wasn't alone.””
She reached into the pocket of her torn cardigan and pulled out a small photograph.
It showed a little boy sitting on a hospital bed.
He had my eyes.
And the same crescent-shaped birthmark on his left shoulder as Noah.
On the back was a handwritten name.
*NOAH — TRANSFERRED TO RICHARD HAYES.*
I looked at my son.
Then at the photograph.
“Emily…”
She nodded.
“Our first son is alive.””
Before I could speak, a car engine roared outside the garden.
Daniel ran toward the gate.
A black SUV had stopped in front of the house.
The driver's door opened.
An older man stepped out.
He wore a charcoal suit and carried a silver walking stick.
My mother made a sound like someone had struck her.
“Richard.””
The man smiled.
Then he looked directly at me.
“Hello, nephew.””
May you like
And behind him, another man stepped out of the SUV.
He was holding a photograph of Noah.
