Chapter 6
Dad did not sleep that night.
Neither did I.
Lily finally fell asleep in Claire’s lap on the couch, still holding the drawing with the fence around our house.
I sat at the kitchen table while Dad and Ms. Romero spread papers across the surface.
Birth records.
Old custody forms.
Insurance reports.
A death certificate for my mother, Sarah Miller.
Only Ms. Romero said the death certificate looked wrong.
“The seal is outdated,” she said. “The registrar number doesn’t match county records.”
Dad pressed both hands against the table.
“I buried her.”
His voice cracked.
“I stood at the grave.”
Ms. Romero looked pained.
“Was it an open casket?”
Dad went silent.
I knew the answer before he said it.
“No.”
Claire whispered, “Daniel.”
Dad stepped away from the table.
His face was gray.
“They told me the accident was too severe.”
“Who told you?” Ms. Romero asked.
Dad closed his eyes.
“Amanda’s mother.”
The room went cold.
Vivian.
I felt sick.
“Why would Vivian know?” Claire asked.
Dad opened his eyes slowly.
“Because she worked at the hospital then. Administration.”
Ms. Romero wrote something down.
“Did Amanda know Sarah?”
Dad nodded.
“They were cousins by marriage. Distant. Amanda helped after the accident. She brought food. She checked on Ethan. She was kind.”
The word kind sounded broken in his mouth.
Claire’s face hardened.
“She moved in six months later.”
Dad looked at me.
Shame filled his eyes.
“I thought you needed a mother.”
I wanted to be angry.
Part of me was.
But mostly I saw a sad man who had been lied to when he was grieving.
“Where is my mom?” I whispered.
Dad crossed to me and knelt.
“I don’t know. But I swear I’m going to find out.”
The next morning, Ms. Romero filed emergency motions.
Officer Grant contacted detectives.
Amanda and Vivian were questioned about the fake order and attempted kidnapping.
Amanda denied everything.
Vivian asked for a lawyer.
Of course she did.
The detective assigned to the case was named Harris.
He came to the house with tired eyes and a gentle voice.
“Ethan,” he said, “I need to ask about things Amanda said to you.”
I told him.
Not everything.
Some memories came out like splinters.
Small.
Sharp.
“She said Mom didn’t want me.”
“She said Dad would choose Lily if I made trouble.”
“She said I should be grateful for noodles because some kids get nothing.”
Dad sat beside me, shaking.
Detective Harris asked, “Did she ever talk about your mother being alive?”
I shook my head.
Then stopped.
“One time,” I whispered.
Everyone leaned in.
“She was mad because I asked Dad about Mom’s singing. Amanda said, ‘Dead women don’t sing, Ethan. And even if they do, nobody hears them.’”
Claire covered her mouth.
Dad looked like he might be sick.
Detective Harris wrote it down.
That afternoon, he found the first real clue.
My mother’s Social Security number had been used three years after her death.
Once.
At a women’s shelter in Missouri.
Dad packed before anyone told him not to.
Ms. Romero stopped him at the door.
“You cannot run across state lines in the middle of a custody case.”
“My dead wife signed into a shelter.”
“And your current wife tried to abduct your children yesterday. Think.”
Dad froze.
I had never seen anyone stop him with one word.
Ms. Romero softened.
“Let Detective Harris call Missouri. Let us do this right.”
“I lost seven years.”
“I know.”
“My son lost his mother.”
“I know.”
“And if Sarah is alive, she lost everything.”
Ms. Romero’s voice shook.
“Then don’t destroy the case by rushing.”
Dad stayed.
Barely.
Two days later, Detective Harris came back.
He was not alone.
A woman stood beside him in the doorway.
Thin.
Pale.
Dark hair with gray at the temples.
A scar ran from her eyebrow to her cheek.
She looked at Dad first.
Then at me.
Her hand flew to her mouth.
I knew her.
Not clearly.
Not like a photograph.
Like a song remembered from sleep.
Dad whispered, “Sarah.”
The woman sobbed.
“Daniel.”
He moved toward her, then stopped.
Like he was afraid she might vanish.
She looked at me.
“Ethan?”
My whole body shook.
I stood.
She dropped to her knees.
“I’m your mom,” she whispered. “I never left you. I never stopped looking.”
I wanted to run to her.
I wanted to hide.
Both feelings crashed inside me.
Dad knelt beside me.
“It’s okay.”
I took one step.
Then another.
Sarah opened her arms.
I fell into them.
She smelled like soap and rain.
Not memory.
Real.
Alive.
She held me and cried into my hair.
“My baby,” she whispered. “My baby.”
Dad turned away, crying silently.
Lily woke from a nap and came into the hallway rubbing her eyes.
She saw Sarah holding me.
Her face crumpled.
“Is that Ethan’s mommy?”
Sarah looked at her.
“Yes.”
Lily began to cry.
“Will he leave with you?”
Sarah’s eyes softened.
“No, sweetheart.”
I turned and reached for Lily.
She ran into the hug too.
Sarah held us both.
Dad watched us with his hand over his mouth.
For one perfect minute, the world made sense.
Then Detective Harris’s phone rang.
He answered.
His face changed.
“What?”
Dad stood.
Detective Harris looked at us.
“Amanda made bail.”
Sarah’s arms tightened around me.
May you like
Harris continued.
“And Vivian is gone.”
