Chapter 4 - THE BABY IN MY MOTHER'S ARMS
I reached our apartment twenty-seven minutes later with two security officers outside the building.
I hated that Malcolm insisted.
I hated even more that I was relieved.
Tyler sat at the kitchen table with the envelope in front of him.
His right leg was braced.
The accident had stolen so much from him.
His job.
His confidence.
His independence.
But none of that compared to the fear in his face now.
“Hannah.”
I hugged him.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Then he looked toward the security men.
“Who are they?”
“Complicated.”
He gave me a look.
“You always say that when things are terrible.”
Fair.
I sat down.
Inside the envelope was a photograph of Margaret at maybe twenty-five.
She held a newborn wrapped in a pale yellow blanket.
On the back:
Michael Avery. Born April 7.
I stared.
“Michael?”
Tyler frowned.
“Who’s that?”
I didn’t know.
Then I found a second photograph.
Vincent Avery.
Young.
Smiling.
Holding the same baby.
My stomach tightened.
Margaret and Vincent had a child.
But where was he?
Why had Malcolm never mentioned a nephew?
I called him.
He answered immediately.
“Did you find something?”
“Yes.”
I told him.
He went silent.
Then whispered:
“Michael died as an infant.”
I stared at the photograph.
“That’s what you were told.”
Silence.
He understood.
In this family, that sentence had become dangerous.
I continued searching the envelope.
There was a small hospital bracelet.
MICHAEL VINCENT AVERY.
And beneath it, a second bracelet.
No first name.
Just:
BABY GIRL HALE.
My hands started shaking.
“Hannah?” Tyler asked.
I couldn’t answer.
The date on the bracelet was twenty-six years ago.
My birth year.
I looked toward the faded photograph again.
Margaret holding a baby.
Not Michael.
A second child.
Me?
Then I found a handwritten note.
Margaret, if anything happens to me, take Hannah and run. Do not let Malcolm know she exists.
My blood ran cold.
The signature:
Vincent.
I called Malcolm again.
“What?”
His voice sharpened.
“Hannah?”
“Did you know your brother had a daughter?”
Silence.
Then:
“No.”
I swallowed.
“My mother had two children with Vincent.”
Malcolm stopped breathing.
I looked toward Tyler.
May you like
Then whispered:
“I think one of them was me.”
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