Chapter 30 #2
Her head lifted, and her gaze met mine. It was soft and full of love. “But then you came into this world. You were the sweetest baby I’d ever met. Whatever time she allowed us with you felt like it was sent straight from the Lord, a gift to soothe the pain of slowly losing our son.”
Her lips curved into a sad smile as another tear slid down her cheek. A big orange cat rubbed against her leg and let out a deep, throaty meow.
“I’m all right, sweetheart,” she whispered, bending down to stroke its head.
I flipped through the album in my lap, pausing at every photograph of my parents. My mom in her cheerleading outfit, radiant and flawless, looking like she’d stepped off a runway. My dad a few pages later, standing tall with his football team, full of life, ready to take on the world.
Then a loose picture slid out and fell onto the couch. My breath caught. It was my mom with another woman. They were leaning their heads together, smiling like best friends. The woman was older, maybe in her thirties, and had a striking elegance that was polished and effortless.
“Who’s that?” I asked.
Kelly leaned closer and squinted at the photo.
“I can’t remember her name. Your mother met her at a church fundraiser in New York City.
If I remember correctly, your mother stayed at the church’s dormitory for women who’d fallen on hard times.
They hit it off right away. At least that’s what your mom said in her letters.
They met often after that. She sometimes sent me pictures like this so I could show them to you while you stayed with us.
She sent them to your dad too when he was in jail. ”
She exhaled, shaking her head like the memory still pained her. “What was that woman’s name . . .”
I flipped through the pages until another photo slipped loose and landed in my hand. My fingers tightened around it, and I froze.
An icy chill hollowed out my stomach. My hands trembled as I stared.
It was my mom again, this time on a yacht. The same elegant woman stood next to her. They were both holding champagne glasses and laughing like they didn’t have a care in the world. And behind them—
“Winthrop,” I whispered. “The woman’s name was Winthrop.”
“Yes!” Kelly snapped her fingers. “That’s it. Winthrop. Your dad mentioned it only once, but Cynthia was so secretive back then. She told us almost nothing. When she dropped you off here, we didn’t ask questions. We were just grateful to have you.”
Her words dulled in my ears as I stared at the photo. The woman was Daniel’s mother. And behind them, smiling faintly near the rail, giving the secret away, was Michael Winthrop.
My stepfather.
My stomach churned so violently, I thought I might vomit. My mom had known Daniel’s parents. She’d been friends with his mother.
Was she also involved in her disappearance?
The thought coiled tighter, creating a suffocating grip in my chest. Did my mom help the monster kill her?
I leaned forward, my head falling into my hands as Princess leaped off my lap. The walls closed in. I couldn’t breathe. How did things always manage to get worse?
Kelly was beside me in an instant, her arms wrapping around me in a strong, steady hug. It came without me asking for it, but it felt so good, I didn’t want to let go.
“Oh, my sweet girl,” she whispered into my hair. “None of this is your fault.”
Her words eased some of the storm raging inside me.
She probably thought I was breaking over the past, but the past she knew was only a fraction of it.
I couldn’t tell her the rest. I couldn’t tell her that my mother was a murderer.
Not just of Michael Winthrop, who kind of deserved it, but of Daniel’s mother too.
And in these pictures, Daniel’s mother looked like an angel—a woman who helped others, who befriended someone like my mom when most of society wouldn’t have looked at her twice.
What had she gotten in return? Death. Leaving Daniel to grow up with a monster for a father.
“Did . . .” My throat burned, the words fighting to come out. “Did you know that Cynthia married Michael Winthrop? The rich man in that picture.”
I met my grandmother’s eyes.
She shook her head slowly. “I didn’t. But it doesn’t surprise me.
Your mother was such a stunning beauty, men obsessed over her regardless of their wallet size.
She was always destined to marry rich. With those looks, she could have had anyone.
” Her face twisted with sadness. “I never envied her for it. When people see only the outside, it’s a curse.
It blinds them to what’s within and leaves a person empty. ”
My gaze drifted back to the picture. The three of them on that yacht. Laughing. Unaware of everything that would come.
“I never knew what happened to you after she picked you up that summer day,” my grandma continued.
“She’d left you here for almost a year, barely called, barely wrote.
Then suddenly there she was, all polished and elegant.
She came with a driver and a car full of toys for you.
You climbed in without packing a single thing.
A few hugs, and you were gone. I never saw you again. ”
Her voice faltered.
“I tried to find you. I went to the police, but they said there was nothing they could do because your mom had full custody. We were shattered. Your dad overdosed not long after. And within a year, your grandpa followed him. They called it a stroke, but I know it was a broken heart.”
Her face crumpled, and tears slipped free again.
“Did you have a good life, Annie?” Her voice cracked. “God knows I prayed you did. I pictured you happy, married, maybe with children of your own.”
I wasn’t a liar. I never was. But how could I possibly tell my sweet old grandma what happened after all that? What good would it do?
I drew in a deep breath, steadying my shaky voice, and nodded.
“Yes. I did. And I married a good man. Kind and selfless. Like my dad.”
Her face lit up. Her eyes growing bright.
“Oh, my little girl,” she said, squeezing my hand. “I’m so happy for you. You don’t know how much this means to me.”
I rested my hand on hers. “I’m sorry I didn’t look for relatives sooner. It was just—”
“Oh, please don’t be,” she cut in gently. “I’m so grateful you found me now. It’s like a piece of my heart has finally come home.” Her lips curved into a playful smile. “Are there any great-grandkids I can spoil?”
“Oh, gosh.” I laughed softly. “Not yet. But maybe in the future.”
“It’s better to take your time.” She gave a knowing nod.
A sudden ring shattered the quiet. My phone buzzed sharply in my pocket, and the cats bolted at the sound. Princess darted under the coffee table, while the big orange cat disappeared toward the hallway.
I pulled out my phone and glanced at the screen.
Daniel.
“I’m sorry,” I said to my grandma. “I have to take this.”
Daniel and I talked often, usually late at night when neither of us could sleep. However, he rarely called first. He always left it to me, saying he didn’t want to be a burden or seem too pushy. For him to call now could mean only one thing.
When I answered, the tone of his voice confirmed it.
“Emily?”
“Yes,” I said, forcing a small smile for my grandmother. She stood, quietly motioning toward the kitchen to give me privacy. I nodded in thanks, watching her go.
On the other end, his breath hitched.
“I . . . I’m so sorry.”
The silence that followed was heavy and endless.
He didn’t need to say another word.
I already knew.
My mother was dead.