Chapter 9 - Mama’s SecretWe hid in a motel outside Memphis.
Emily sat across from me.
For the first time in twenty years, I was sitting across from my own daughter.
I didn't know how to look at her.
Every time I did, I saw myself.
Every time I looked away, I remembered the baby I had believed was dead.
“Why did Mama pay someone after Wayne died?”
Emily shook her head.
“She didn't.”
“But the payment came from her account.”
“That account was compromised.”
Samuel leaned over the laptop.
“Let's see the transaction.”
The payment had been made seven months ago.
One year before Mama's death.
Amount:
$50,000.
Recipient:
Harrison Legal Services.
I recognized the name.
“My mother's attorney.”
Samuel went still.
“That's impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because Harrison died eight years ago.”
The room went quiet.
Emily looked at the screen.
“Then someone used a dead man's firm.”
I stared at her.
“How?”
“Someone still has access.”
Russell finally spoke.
“To what?”
Emily said, “Mama's account.”
I felt a chill.
“So someone has been stealing from her for years?”
“Maybe.”
“Then why leave the flour tin?”
Emily looked at me.
“Because your mother knew.”
I remembered the letter.
The money.
The bank.
Her warning.
“Maybe she was building a case.”
Samuel nodded.
“Against whom?”
Emily leaned back.
“Wayne.”
“He's dead.”
“Then against the people who helped him.”
I looked at the flash drive.
“What does it contain?”
“Transactions.”
“To doctors, judges, social workers, private investigators.”
“Everyone involved?”
“Almost.”
“Who isn't?”
Emily looked at me.
“Your brother.”
Russell stiffened.
“What?”
“He isn't listed.”
I looked at Russell.
He seemed shocked.
Emily continued.
“That's why I trusted him.”
I stared.
“You've known Russell all these years?”
“He visited me.”
“When?”
“Every birthday.”
My chest tightened.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“He said you'd break.”
I looked at my brother.
“You let me mourn a daughter who was alive.”
Russell cried.
“I thought I was protecting you.”
“You stole twenty years from me.”
“I know.”
The words landed harder than an excuse.
Then Emily reached into her bag.
She pulled out another envelope.
“This was found in Mama's bedroom.”
My name was written on it.
I opened it.
Inside was a single photograph.
Mama.
Wayne.
A hospital room.
And me as a baby.
On the back Mama had written:
This was the night I learned Linda was not my only child.
I looked at Emily.
“What does that mean?”
She shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Then her eyes widened.
“Wait.”
“What?”
She turned the photograph over.
There was writing beneath Mama’s note.
A sentence I hadn't seen.
The second child belonged to a man who was never supposed to know she existed.
Emily whispered:
“Mom...”
My blood went cold.
“Who was my father?”
Emily looked at me.
“I think we're asking the wrong question.”
May you like
She pointed at the photograph.
“That man standing beside Mama isn't Wayne.”
