PART 17 — MELISSA’S REAL MOTHER
Scott stared at the ledger as if the words might rearrange themselves if he waited long enough.
They didn’t.
Baby Girl Harper.
Mother informed infant deceased.
Porter placement.
Finally, he whispered, “No.”
Rebecca didn’t respond.
He looked at me.
“Ma, this isn’t possible.”
I understood the instinct.
I had said the same thing when I first saw Rebecca’s photograph.
Impossible was easier than betrayed.
“Call Melissa,” I said.
Scott shook his head.
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because if this is wrong—”
“And if it’s right?”
He had no answer.
Laura leaned over the ledger.
“What does Porter placement mean?”
“My mother,” I said.
But Rebecca shook her head.
“Maybe.”
I looked at her.
“What else could it mean?”
She turned several pages backward.
“There are other notations.”
She found three.
Porter placement.
Porter referral.
Porter approved.
My stomach tightened.
“All my mother?”
“Maybe not.”
Rebecca pointed to a set of initials beside one entry.
E.P.
I stared at them.
Then remembered.
“My grandmother.”
Laura frowned.
“Your grandmother?”
“Eleanor Porter.”
My mother’s mother.
She had died when I was ten.
I barely remembered her.
Rebecca looked at me.
“Then this started before your mother.”
Nobody spoke.
What I had thought was one cruel decision was becoming something older.
A system.
A family habit passed down like silverware.
Scott finally picked up his phone.
“I need to talk to Melissa.”
He walked into the corridor.
We could hear his voice.
“Come to Fairview Storage.”
Pause.
“No, I’m not explaining this on the phone.”
Another pause.
“Melissa, please.”
That word surprised me.
Please.
Not an order.
Not anger.
Fear.
He ended the call.
“She’ll be here in twenty minutes.”
Evelyn nodded.
“Do not tell her details until the detective arrives.”
Scott looked at her.
“She’s my wife.”
“And potentially connected to disputed records.”
His face hardened.
Then softened again.
He was tired.
We all were.
Twenty-eight minutes later, Melissa appeared.
She walked fast.
Hair pulled back.
No makeup.
For once she didn’t look like the polished woman from Sunday dinner.
She looked scared.
She saw Scott first.
“What happened?”
Then me.
Then Rebecca.
Then the ledger.
Her face changed.
“You found it.”
Scott stared at her.
“Found what?”
She stopped.
Too late.
“What did you know?” he asked.
“Scott—”
“What did you know?”
Melissa closed her eyes.
“My mother told me something before she died.”
Scott stepped back.
“You knew?”
“Not everything.”
I almost laughed.
There it was again.
The family motto.
Not everything.
Scott’s voice cracked.
“You knew your adoption records were connected to St. Agnes?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“I was ashamed.”
“Of being adopted?”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“Of what my mother did afterward.”
I frowned.
“What did Judith do?”
Melissa sat on the edge of the desk.
“She worked for your mother.”
My skin went cold.
“Doing what?”
“Finding families.”
Rebecca’s face hardened.
“For the babies?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
Rebecca slapped the ledger shut.
“Everyone suddenly doesn’t know.”
Melissa flinched.
“I was a child when most of this happened.”
“So was I.”
That ended the argument.
Scott pointed at the ledger.
“Are you Baby Girl Harper?”
Melissa stared at him.
“Yes.”
He sat down.
Just like that.
His knees seemed to stop holding him.
“Who was your biological mother?”
Melissa looked toward the floor.
“I don’t know her name.”
Rebecca reopened the ledger.
“Yes, you do.”
She pointed to the entry.
Mother: Catherine Louise Harper.
Melissa covered her mouth.
Tears appeared instantly.
“Catherine.”
She said the name like she’d been waiting her entire life to hear it.
“Is she alive?” Scott asked.
Nobody knew.
Then Evelyn’s phone rang.
Detective Marquez.
She listened.
Her expression sharpened.
“What?”
We all watched.
“When?”
Another pause.
“All right. Don’t touch anything until I get there.”
She hung up.
“Richard Cole has been located.”
“Where?” I asked.
“At the hospital.”
My heart dropped.
“What happened?”
“Car accident.”
Scott stood.
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
“Can he talk?”
“Apparently.”
Evelyn looked at me.
“He asked for you.”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He says he knows where the trust amendment is.”
Nobody moved.
Of course he did.
I grabbed my purse.
The hospital was fifteen minutes away.
Evelyn came with me.
Rebecca did too.
Laura stayed with the storage records until investigators arrived.
Scott chose to stay with Melissa.
I didn’t argue.
For once, he needed to deal with his own marriage instead of mine.
Richard was in a private emergency room bay when we arrived.
His face was bruised.
One arm was wrapped.
But he was awake.
When he saw me, he gave a tired smile.
“Mrs. Bennett.”
“Margaret.”
He nodded.
“Margaret.”
I stood beside the bed.
“Where is the amendment?”
He closed his eyes.
“I don’t have it.”
“Then why did you ask for me?”
“Because I know who does.”
I waited.
“My father gave it to Daniel.”
My anger rose.
“Daniel said it was hidden with Dottie.”
“It was.”
“For how long?”
“About fifteen years.”
“And then?”
“Daniel retrieved it.”
“When?”
“After your mother died.”
Nineteen years ago.
“What did he do with it?”
Richard looked at Rebecca.
“He gave it to Thomas.”
Rebecca froze.
“What?”
“Thomas has the original.”
She shook her head.
“No. Dad told me he didn’t.”
Richard’s expression became sad.
“He lied.”
Rebecca looked hurt.
I understood that too.
Even the people who loved us had decided truth was something to ration.
“Why would Thomas hide it from Rebecca?”
“Because the amendment contains more than property instructions.”
My heart sank.
“What?”
Richard took a painful breath.
“A confession.”
“From my grandfather?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
“Your mother.”
I stared at him.
“My mother signed the amendment?”
“No. She added a statement years later and attached it to the original.”
“What does it say?”
“I never read all of it.”
Rebecca laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
Richard ignored her.
“My father told me the statement explained how St. Agnes worked.”
The room became still.
“Names?”
“Yes.”
“Children?”
“Yes.”
“Where they went?”
Richard hesitated.
“Some.”
Rebecca stepped forward.
“Then why would Thomas keep that from us?”
“Because some people named in it are still alive.”
“That isn’t his decision.”
“No.”
Richard looked at me.
“But he believed revealing it all at once could destroy families.”
I felt suddenly exhausted.
“Everybody keeps destroying families in the name of saving them.”
Richard had no answer.
I asked, “Where is Thomas?”
Rebecca said, “Hospice.”
“Then we’re going.”
Richard caught my wrist.
Not hard.
Just enough to stop me.
“One more thing.”
I looked down.
“What?”
“The accident wasn’t an accident.”
Evelyn stepped closer.
“What happened?”
“Someone ran me off the road.”
“Did you see who?”
“No.”
“Why would someone do that?”
Richard swallowed.
“Because they thought I still had the amendment.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who knew you were looking for it?”
“Scott.”
Rebecca’s face hardened.
I shook my head.
“No.”
Richard continued.
“Melissa.”
I said nothing.
“And Dottie.”
Three people.
My son.
My daughter-in-law.
My oldest friend.
“Anyone else?”
Richard hesitated.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Raymond.”
Rebecca went completely still.
“My biological father?”
Richard nodded.
“Why would Raymond care about the amendment?”
His eyes moved to Rebecca.
“Because your mother’s statement doesn’t just identify children taken through St. Agnes.”
Rebecca frowned.
“What else?”
“It identifies fathers.”
The room went silent.
I thought about Raymond.
Married.
Rebecca’s biological father.
A scandal hidden for forty-two years.
But Richard shook his head.
“Raymond isn’t afraid of Rebecca’s paternity becoming public.”
“Then what is he afraid of?”
Richard looked at me.
“Another child.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
He struggled to sit higher.
“According to my father, Raymond had another child connected to St. Agnes.”
Rebecca went pale.
“A sibling?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Boy or girl?”
“Boy.”
Rebecca covered her mouth.
“How old?”
“Older than you.”
My mind raced.
Raymond had been married before Rebecca was born.
A child hidden through St. Agnes.
Rebecca whispered, “Does Raymond know where he is?”
Richard nodded.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Before he could answer, Rebecca’s phone rang.
She looked at the screen.
“Thomas’s hospice.”
She answered immediately.
“Hello?”
Her face changed.
“What?”
I grabbed her arm.
“What happened?”
She listened.
Then looked at me.
“Thomas is awake, but he’s asking for us.”
“Why?”
Rebecca put the phone on speaker.
A nurse said, “Mr. Reed is insisting that Mrs. Bennett come immediately.”
“I am coming.”
The nurse hesitated.
“He also asked me to give you a message.”
“What?”
I could hear Thomas speaking faintly in the background.
The nurse moved closer to him.
Then Thomas’s weak voice came through.
“Maggie…”
“I’m here.”
“Don’t trust the family tree.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
His breathing was rough.
“The amendment…”
“Yes?”
“It’s inside Rebecca’s house.”
Rebecca froze.
“What?”
Thomas continued.
“Behind the photograph of your graduation.”
Rebecca’s eyes widened.
She knew exactly which photograph.
“Dad, why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I needed to know who came looking for it.”
My skin prickled.
“Did someone?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Thomas coughed.
Then whispered:
“Raymond.”
Rebecca backed against the wall.
Her biological father had apparently been searching for the document.
“Why?”
Thomas’s next words were almost too faint to hear.
“Because Raymond’s other son is someone you already know.”
I gripped Rebecca’s hand without thinking.
She didn’t pull away.
“Who is he?” I asked.
Thomas took one difficult breath.
Then said:
“Scott.”
Nobody moved.
I looked at Rebecca.
She stared at me.
My son.
My husband’s son.
The boy I had raised.
Thomas was saying Scott was Raymond’s child.
Which meant Scott and Rebecca weren’t merely connected by my marriage.
If Thomas was telling the truth, they shared the same biological father.
And suddenly the secret my family had spent forty-two years protecting was bigger than stolen land.
It was the truth about who my children actually were.
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