Chapter 7
The independent DNA results came back in forty-eight hours.
I thought I was prepared.
I wasn’t.
Helen read them in the safe house kitchen while Lily colored at the little table with Claire.
Daniel was not allowed inside.
He waited on the porch with two police officers watching him.
Helen’s voice softened.
“Lily is not biologically related to you.”
The room disappeared.
I heard the crayon in Lily’s hand snap.
She looked up.
“Mommy?”
I crossed the room and pulled her into my arms.
Nothing had changed.
Everything had changed.
“She is Sofia Reed’s biological daughter,” Helen continued carefully. “Daniel is not her biological father.”
Lily touched my face.
“Did I do bad?”
“No,” I said fiercely. “You did nothing bad.”
Claire wiped her eyes.
Helen turned the page.
“There is a second result.”
My pulse hammered.
“Nora’s evidence included hospital blood spot records for Baby Girl Whitmore. They matched against your sample.”
I could barely speak.
“And?”
“Your biological daughter survived the birth.”
I covered my mouth.
“She was discharged under Sofia Reed’s name. The current search is active.”
Alive.
Somewhere.
My child with the crescent birthmark was alive somewhere because another mother had carried her away from Eleanor.
I walked outside to Daniel.
He stood immediately.
“Is it back?”
I slapped him.
Not hard enough for what he had done.
Hard enough for my hand to remember I was done being gentle with lies.
He took it.
Didn’t raise a hand.
Didn’t defend himself.
“She isn’t mine?” he asked.
“Lily is Sofia’s.”
He closed his eyes.
“And Ava?”
“My daughter is alive.”
His knees nearly gave out.
“I’m sorry.”
“No,” I said. “You are late.”
That hurt him more.
Good.
Officer Morales arrived with new information.
Sofia had been found.
Alive.
In Portland.
Working nights at a hospital laundry under the name Sarah Miller.
The child with her was called Ava.
Four years old.
Dark curls.
Crescent birthmark on her left shoulder.
I sat on the porch steps and sobbed until I couldn’t breathe.
Lily watched from the window.
That sight pulled me back.
Because my grief had two daughters now.
One inside asking if she had done wrong.
One in Portland who did not know I existed.
We drove the next morning.
Me, Helen, Claire, Officer Morales, and Lily because I refused to leave her behind with fear.
Daniel asked to come.
I said no.
Portland was gray and wet when we arrived at the small duplex.
Sofia Reed opened the door with a laundry basket in her hands.
She looked exhausted.
Thin.
Wary.
Then she saw Lily.
The basket fell.
Lily stared at her.
Neither moved.
Sofia whispered, “Ava?”
I knelt beside Lily.
“Her name is Lily.”
Sofia covered her mouth and sobbed.
From behind her, a little girl appeared in purple pajamas.
She had my eyes.
A crescent birthmark peeked from her shoulder where the shirt slipped.
My legs went weak.
The little girl looked at Sofia.
“Mommy?”
Sofia wiped her face fast.
“It’s okay, sweetheart.”
I could not move toward her.
I wanted to.
God, I wanted to.
But I knew what it felt like now, to have adults turn children into proof.
So I stayed where I was.
“My name is Maya,” I said softly.
The little girl hid behind Sofia’s leg.
Lily looked at Sofia, then at the child.
“Are you my other mommy?”
Sofia’s face broke.
“I think so.”
Lily walked forward slowly.
Sofia dropped to her knees.
My daughter, the one I raised, touched Sofia’s cheek with one finger.
“You cried like Mommy.”
Sofia pulled her into her arms and sobbed.
The little girl in purple stared at me.
Then she stepped forward.
“Are you the lady from the picture?”
My heart stopped.
“What picture?”
She ran inside and came back holding a folded photo.
Me in the hospital bed, holding a newborn baby.
Sofia whispered, “Daniel gave it to me. He said one day she might need to know she was loved before me.”
I took the photo with shaking hands.
Ava looked up at me.
“Did you lose me?”
May you like
I knelt.
“Yes,” I whispered. “But I never stopped missing you, even before I knew where to look.”
