Chapter 1 - THE NIGHT THEY THREW US OUTIt was 10:45 p.m.
Snow hammered the windows of my parents’ house so hard that it sounded like someone was throwing handfuls of gravel against the glass.
My five-year-old daughter, Zoe, had been awake for nearly an hour.
“Mommy,” she whispered from the mattress we had laid on the floor of the guest room, “the wind sounds angry.”
I forced a smile.
“It’s just the storm, baby.”
She pulled the blanket to her chin.
I knew she was scared.
I was too.
I had been living with my parents for six months after losing my apartment. My divorce had drained what little savings I had, and raising Zoe alone had become harder than I wanted to admit.
My parents had never made me feel welcome.
But they were still my parents.
At least, I thought that meant something.
That night, Zoe whispered that she was thirsty.
So I carried her downstairs.
“Orange juice?”
She nodded.
I poured her a little.
She wrapped both hands around the cup.
Then my elbow bumped the counter.
The cup slipped.
It hit the floor.
Orange juice spread across the cream-colored carpet.
Zoe froze.
“I’m sorry, Mommy.”
Before I could reassure her, heavy footsteps thundered down the stairs.
My father appeared first.
My mother was behind him.
And behind them stood my seventeen-year-old sister, Savannah, arms folded across her chest.
My father looked at the carpet.
Then at Zoe.
His face hardened.
“I am so sick of this.”
“Dad, it was an accident.”
“I don’t care.”
“I’ll clean it.”
I dropped to my knees.
My father grabbed my arm and pulled me upright.
“You always say that.”
His eyes moved to Zoe.
“We’re done raising your mistake.”
I felt something inside me break.
“Don’t call her that.”
My mother looked away.
Savannah smirked.
My father went upstairs.
I thought maybe he was leaving.
Instead, he came back carrying a suitcase.
Then another.
He threw my clothes inside.
“Dad, what are you doing?”
“You're leaving.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“It's snowing.”
“I know.”
“It's almost eleven at night.”
“I know.”
“Where are we supposed to go?”
He threw another shirt into the suitcase.
“Anywhere but here.”
My mother finally spoke.
“Maybe this will teach you responsibility.”
I looked at her.
“You're serious?”
She wouldn't meet my eyes.
Savannah stepped closer.
“You've been freeloading long enough.”
I felt my jaw tighten.
“I pay for groceries.”
“Not enough.”
“I take care of the house.”
“Not enough.”
I looked at my mother.
“Mom?”
Silence.
My father grabbed my key ring.
He ripped the house key free.
“These aren't yours anymore.”
I reached for it.
He pulled his hand away.
Then he opened the front door.
A wall of snow exploded into the hallway.
Cold air stabbed straight through my sweater.
Zoe grabbed my leg.
“Mommy?”
I turned.
My father pointed outside.
“Get out.”
“You can't do this.”
He shoved the first suitcase toward me.
“I just did.”
My mother stood behind him.
She still wouldn't look at us.
Savannah smiled.
I took Zoe's hand.
We stepped into the snow.
The door slammed behind us.
Click.
The lock turned.
Zoe started crying.
“Mommy, I'm sorry.”
I dropped to my knees in the snow.
“Listen to me.”
She looked at me through tears.
“None of this is your fault.”
I wrapped my coat around her.
“You hear me?”
She nodded.
I loaded our bags into my old blue sedan.
The engine struggled before finally starting.
I pulled away.
Every mile was terrifying.
Snow covered the road.
Visibility was almost nothing.
I was halfway to a cheap motel when headlights suddenly appeared.
A car slid across the intersection.
I slammed the brakes.
The world spun.
CRASH.
Metal screamed.
Zoe screamed too.
I turned around.
“Baby!”
She was crying.
But she was alive.
No blood.
No obvious injuries.
I almost collapsed with relief.
Then the other driver stepped out.
A woman.
She didn't yell.
Didn't curse.
She simply walked toward my car.
She looked at Zoe.
Then the bags.
Then me.
“Why are you out here with a five-year-old in this weather?”
I swallowed.
“My parents kicked us out.”
Her expression changed.
“What is your name?”
“Clara.”
She stared at me.
Then she said my full name.
“Clara Walker?”
My blood went cold.
“How do you know my last name?”
Her eyes dropped.
A faded blue lanyard was sticking out from one of my bags.
Her face drained of color.
“No.”
She stepped closer.
“No, no, no.”
“Who are you?”
She whispered:
“I've spent fifteen years trying to find you.”
My heart stopped.
She looked directly into my eyes.
Then she said two words.
“It’s me.”
And suddenly, I knew.
The woman standing in the snow was the woman my parents had spent fifteen years making sure I would never find.
May you like
My aunt.
The sister they told me had died.
