PART 5 — THE SECOND BABY
For several seconds, I could not understand Margaret’s words.
“But she wasn’t the only baby girl born to you.”
Rebecca’s fingers slowly slipped from Margaret’s arm.
I stared at the elderly woman.
“What did you say?”
Margaret covered her mouth.
Wayne stood near the doorway, surrounded by the papers that had spilled from the red envelope.
Deputy Blake was already coming up the porch steps.
Thomas stood between Wayne and the door.
Nobody moved.
I heard the wall clock ticking.
I heard Rebecca breathing.
I heard my own pulse thundering inside my ears.
Then I asked again.
“How many babies did I have?”
Margaret whispered, “Two.”
The room tilted.
“Twins?”
She nodded.
I grabbed the back of the chair.
“No.”
“Linda—”
“No.”
“I was there.”
“No.”
“You delivered two girls.”
Rebecca stared at me.
I stared at her.
Two.
Two daughters.
My hand moved to my stomach again.
Forty-one years.
Forty-one years believing I had never given birth.
Then one daughter.
Now two.
“What happened to the other baby?”
Margaret looked at Wayne.
His smile had disappeared.
That terrified me more than anything.
“Margaret.”
She did not answer.
I stepped closer.
“Where is my other daughter?”
Wayne spoke before she could.
“That’s the question your mother spent the rest of her life trying to answer.”
Deputy Blake entered the house.
“Wayne Callahan, keep your hands where I can see them.”
Wayne slowly raised them.
Blake’s partner moved behind him.
Nobody else seemed to notice.
Rebecca was staring at Margaret.
“You raised me.”
“Yes.”
“Which baby was I?”
Margaret’s face crumpled.
“I don’t know.”
Rebecca recoiled.
“What?”
“I never knew.”
“You’re my mother and you don’t know?”
“I’m not your biological mother.”
“You know what I mean!”
Margaret started sobbing.
“I was given one baby.”
“Which one?”
“They had no names.”
“But there were bracelets.”
“Yes.”
“Then which bracelet was mine?”
Margaret looked toward the two hospital bands still in my hand.
“The bracelet that said BABY GIRL MERCER belonged to one of you.”
“One of us?”
Rebecca whispered.
“What did the other bracelet say?”
Margaret closed her eyes.
“Baby B.”
My heart stopped.
“Where is it?”
“I don’t have it.”
“Who does?”
“I don’t know.”
Wayne laughed softly.
Deputy Blake pushed him toward the wall.
“Something funny?”
Wayne shook his head.
“No.”
I turned on him.
“You know where she is.”
His eyes met mine.
“I know where she was taken.”
I crossed the room before anyone could stop me.
“Tell me.”
“Linda—”
“TELL ME.”
Blake stepped between us.
“Let him answer.”
Wayne looked at the deputy.
Then at me.
“You want the truth?”
“Yes.”
“You won’t like it.”
“I have not liked a single thing I’ve heard today.”
He nodded.
“Fair enough.”
He looked toward Margaret.
“Tell them about the basement.”
Margaret went white.
Rebecca stared at her.
“What basement?”
Margaret shook her head.
“Wayne, don’t.”
“Why not? You wanted truth. Let’s have all of it.”
I looked at Margaret.
“What basement?”
“St. Anne’s.”
Her voice was barely audible.
“The hospital had an old records basement.”
“So?”
“There was another nursery room downstairs.”
“For sick babies?”
“No.”
“For what?”
Margaret hesitated.
“For babies whose placements were being handled privately.”
Deputy Blake frowned.
“Privately?”
Margaret nodded.
“Back then, some doctors and attorneys arranged adoptions outside normal county channels.”
“Illegal adoptions?”
She did not answer.
That was answer enough.
Rebecca whispered, “Baby selling.”
Margaret started crying harder.
“Not always.”
“But sometimes.”
“Yes.”
I felt sick.
“My daughters were put into that system?”
“One was.”
“Which one?”
“I don’t know.”
“Rebecca?”
“No.”
Margaret shook her head.
“Rebecca never went downstairs.”
I looked at her.
“You took Rebecca directly?”
“Yes.”
“Then the other baby went downstairs.”
“Yes.”
“What happened to her?”
Margaret stared at Wayne.
“He knows.”
Deputy Blake turned.
“Callahan?”
Wayne leaned against the wall.
“I know what Pierce told me.”
“Which was?”
“That Baby B was transferred.”
“To where?”
“A private family.”
“What family?”
“I never got the name.”
I stared at him.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I did not arrange that placement.”
“Who did?”
Wayne looked at the papers on the floor.
“Judge Warren.”
The name hung between us.
I remembered Mama’s note.
Wayne says Linda cannot remember.
Pierce says records can be changed.
I looked at Wayne.
“You said Warren wasn’t Rebecca’s father.”
“He wasn’t.”
“Was he the father of the other baby?”
Wayne’s expression shifted.
“No.”
“Then why was he involved?”
“Because he was protecting someone.”
“Who?”
Wayne smiled without humor.
“David.”
My stomach twisted.
“David Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“The man Mama told me was her brother.”
Wayne nodded.
“The man listed as my father on that birth certificate?”
“Yes.”
I pointed at the document.
“So which is it? My uncle or my father?”
“Neither.”
Everything stopped again.
I stared at him.
“What?”
Wayne looked at Margaret.
She said nothing.
“What do you mean neither?”
He nodded toward the birth certificate.
“That document is fake.”
I grabbed it from the floor.
“Mama kept a fake birth certificate?”
“She kept proof that someone created one.”
“Why?”
“To show how far Warren was willing to go.”
I looked at the name again.
DAVID ANTHONY MERCER.
“Then who was David?”
Wayne exhaled.
“Your mother’s cousin.”
I stared.
“Not her brother?”
“No.”
“Why did we call him Uncle David?”
“Because families call cousins uncles all the time when kids are young.”
Pieces shifted inside my head.
David coming to Christmas.
David fixing Mama’s car.
David lifting me onto his shoulders when I was little.
I had always assumed he was Mama’s younger brother because nobody ever corrected me.
“Why put his name on my birth certificate?”
“To create leverage.”
“Against who?”
“Your mother.”
I could feel my patience cracking.
“Stop giving me half-answers.”
Wayne looked at the deputy.
“I want a lawyer.”
I lunged toward him.
“You don’t get to do this.”
Blake stopped me.
“Linda.”
“He knows where my daughter went.”
“We’ll question him.”
“He’ll lie.”
Wayne looked at me over Blake’s shoulder.
“You still don’t understand what Evelyn did.”
I stopped struggling.
“What did she do?”
He smiled faintly.
“She switched the bracelets.”
Margaret gasped.
“That is a lie.”
Wayne turned toward her.
“You saw her do it.”
“No.”
“You helped.”
Margaret shook her head violently.
“No.”
Rebecca looked between them.
“What are you talking about?”
Wayne continued.
“Evelyn knew someone was coming for one of the babies.”
“Who?”
I asked.
“She didn’t know.”
“So she switched them?”
“She moved the identification bands.”
Margaret stepped forward.
“That is not what happened.”
“Then tell Linda what did.”
Margaret’s mouth trembled.
I looked at her.
“Tell me.”
She closed her eyes.
“Your mother came into the nursery after midnight.”
“How?”
“She had been crying for hours. She said Wayne and Warren were planning something.”
Wayne scoffed.
Margaret ignored him.
“She begged me to take both babies.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I couldn’t.”
“Couldn’t or wouldn’t?”
Her eyes filled.
“Both.”
I swallowed my anger.
“Continue.”
“She said if I couldn’t take both, I had to make sure the men could not identify the baby they wanted.”
Rebecca whispered, “The baby they wanted?”
Margaret nodded.
“Evelyn believed they were looking for a specific child.”
“Why?”
“She never told me.”
I looked at Wayne.
He looked away.
Margaret continued.
“Evelyn removed the Baby A and Baby B ankle bands.”
My heart pounded.
“And?”
“She swapped them.”
Rebecca slowly sat down.
“So nobody knows which twin I am.”
Margaret shook her head.
“No.”
“What about footprints?”
I asked.
“Hospital records?”
“Pierce altered them.”
“DNA?”
Nobody answered.
Then Thomas spoke for the first time in several minutes.
“DNA can answer whether Rebecca is Linda’s daughter.”
“Yes,” Margaret said.
“But not which twin she was.”
Unless we found the other one.
I looked toward Wayne.
“That’s why Mama kept searching.”
“Yes.”
Margaret nodded.
“She knew one daughter was with me.”
“And the other?”
“She searched for decades.”
“Did she ever find her?”
Margaret looked toward the red envelope.
“I thought not.”
My eyes followed hers.
There were still papers on the floor.
Photographs.
Receipts.
Copies of old hospital documents.
I dropped to my knees and began sorting.
Rebecca joined me.
Neither of us spoke.
Then she picked up a photograph.
“Who is this?”
I looked.
A girl.
Maybe eight years old.
Brown hair cut at the shoulders.
Standing beside a yellow school bus.
My breath caught.
She looked like me.
Not a little.
A lot.
Same eyes.
Same chin.
Same crooked smile.
On the back Mama had written:
1986? No. Approx. 1993. Possible match. Nashville.
I grabbed another photograph.
Same girl at what looked like a school field day.
Another note.
St. Catherine Academy.
Name may be Emily.
Rebecca whispered, “Mama found her.”
“Maybe.”
I flipped through more.
Photographs across years.
Age nine.
Eleven.
Thirteen.
A teenage girl at a track meet.
Then an older photograph.
A woman in her twenties.
Same face.
Same eyes.
Mama had followed her life.
Or at least pieces of it.
“What’s her full name?”
Rebecca asked.
I searched.
Nothing.
Then I found an envelope inside the torn red envelope.
NASHVILLE.
Inside were photocopies.
School registration.
A church bulletin.
A newspaper clipping.
The clipping showed a young woman receiving a college scholarship.
EMILY ROSE CARTER.
I stopped breathing at the middle name.
Rose.
Rosie.
The name I had supposedly called my baby in the hospital.
Rebecca saw it too.
“Rose.”
I nodded.
“Mama knew.”
Wayne spoke behind us.
“She suspected.”
I turned.
“Did you?”
He did not answer.
Blake said, “Answer.”
Wayne sighed.
“Yes.”
My heart hammered.
“When?”
“Years ago.”
“You knew where she was?”
“I knew where Evelyn believed she was.”
“Did you contact her?”
“No.”
“Why?”
He laughed bitterly.
“What would I say? Hello, I helped destroy your biological mother’s life?”
At least he understood one thing.
Rebecca held up the clipping.
“Where is Emily now?”
I checked the date.
The article was from 2002.
Nothing newer.
Then Rebecca found another piece of paper.
A printed email.
Dated only four months ago.
From an address beginning with emily.carter.
To Mama.
My hands started shaking.
Rebecca read the first line aloud.
“Mrs. Mercer, I received your letter.”
We looked at each other.
Mama had contacted her.
I grabbed the email.
Mrs. Mercer,
I received your letter. I don’t know what to believe. The people who raised me told me my biological mother died shortly after childbirth. I have no reason to doubt them, but some of the things you included are difficult to explain.
I am willing to meet once.
Please do not contact my parents.
Emily.
I turned the page.
Nothing.
“Did they meet?”
Rebecca asked.
I looked at Margaret.
“Did Mama tell you about Emily?”
Margaret shook her head.
“Not by name.”
“But she visited you six days before she died.”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
Margaret closed her eyes, trying to remember.
“She said, ‘I found the second rose.’”
My heart stopped.
“The second rose?”
“Yes.”
Rebecca covered her mouth.
I looked again at the email.
Emily Rose Carter.
Mama had found her.
“Where was the meeting?”
I searched the paperwork.
Then Thomas bent down and picked up a small receipt from beneath the coffee table.
“Linda.”
“What?”
He held it out.
Coffee.
Two drinks.
Six days before Mama died.
Exactly the day she had visited Margaret.
The location was a cafe in Jackson, Tennessee.
And on the back Mama had written:
Emily came.
She has Linda’s hands.
I sank back onto my heels.
Mama had met my daughter.
The second one.
She had been close enough to see her hands.
Close enough to hear her voice.
And then Mama died less than a week later.
Deputy Blake took the receipt carefully.
“Did Wayne know about this?”
Russell had said Wayne discovered Mama was asking questions.
I looked at him.
“Did you know?”
Wayne did not answer.
“Did you know Mama met Emily?”
His silence told me everything.
“Did you follow her?”
“No.”
“Did Russell?”
“No.”
“Then how did you know?”
Wayne looked toward the floor.
Blake stepped closer.
“How?”
Wayne’s jaw tightened.
“Evelyn called me.”
That surprised me.
“Mama called you?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“The night after she met Emily.”
“Why?”
Wayne swallowed.
“To tell me it was over.”
“What was over?”
“The secret.”
I stared at him.
“She said she was telling both girls.”
Rebecca whispered, “Both?”
Wayne nodded.
“She planned to bring Linda, Rebecca, and Emily together.”
My chest tightened.
Mama had finally chosen truth.
Far too late.
But she had chosen it.
“What did you say?”
“I told her she was making a mistake.”
“Then?”
“She hung up.”
“And the next morning?”
“I went to her house.”
Margaret gasped.
Russell had told me he arrived first.
Wayne had said Russell called him.
I looked at Blake.
“He just changed his story.”
Blake’s expression hardened.
“Yes, he did.”
Wayne immediately realized what he had done.
“No.”
I stood.
“You were there before Russell.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You said you went to Mama’s house the next morning.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“What time?”
He stopped.
“What time, Wayne?”
Blake moved closer.
“Answer.”
Wayne looked cornered.
“Six-thirty.”
My blood went cold.
Russell said he arrived around seven.
Wayne had already been there.
“What happened at six-thirty?”
“I knocked.”
“Did she answer?”
“Yes.”
“So Mama was alive and awake.”
Wayne said nothing.
I stepped closer.
“She let you inside?”
“Yes.”
“What did you argue about?”
“Emily.”
“What else?”
“The land.”
“What else?”
“The hospital records.”
“What else?”
He looked at me.
“You.”
“What did Mama say?”
Wayne’s voice dropped.
“She said she was going to spend whatever time she had left fixing what we did to you.”
“We?”
He closed his eyes.
There it was.
Not they.
We.
“You admitted it.”
“I admitted nothing.”
“You said what we did.”
He looked toward Blake.
“I want my lawyer.”
Blake nodded to his partner.
“Take him outside.”
Wayne was handcuffed.
As they led him toward the porch, he twisted around.
“Linda.”
I ignored him.
“LINDA.”
I looked.
His face had changed.
The arrogance was gone.
“Emily isn’t safe.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
Blake grabbed Wayne’s arm.
“Why?”
Wayne looked straight at me.
“Because if Evelyn found her, somebody else could too.”
“Who?”
He shook his head.
“You still think Warren was the worst man involved.”
My stomach twisted.
“Who else was involved?”
But Blake’s partner pulled him outside.
I ran to the porch.
“WAYNE!”
He looked back as they placed him beside the cruiser.
“Who?”
“Find the delivery log.”
“What?”
“The original one.”
“Margaret said Mama put it in box 419.”
Wayne laughed.
“No.”
Margaret stepped onto the porch behind me.
“What do you mean?”
“The blue envelope does not contain the delivery log.”
She went pale.
“How do you know?”
“Because Pierce kept the original.”
My hands clenched.
“Where?”
Wayne looked at me.
“Ask his widow.”
Then the deputy placed him inside the cruiser.
I turned to Margaret.
“Pierce was married?”
“Yes.”
“Is his wife alive?”
“I think so.”
“Where?”
“Last I heard, she was living in Memphis.”
Rebecca stepped onto the porch.
“I’m coming.”
I looked at her.
She looked overwhelmed.
Terrified.
Angry.
And somehow still strong.
“You don’t have to.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Rebecca—”
“I found out twenty minutes ago that my mother is alive.”
Her voice shook.
“Then I found out I may have a twin sister.”
She held up Emily’s photograph.
“I am not going home to make dinner and pretend today didn’t happen.”
Despite everything, something inside me warmed.
She sounded like me.
Exactly like me.
Margaret whispered, “We should open box 419 first.”
Thomas nodded.
“She’s right.”
We returned to the bank with Deputy Blake following.
Wayne was taken separately for questioning.
Russell remained at the station.
By the time we reached First County, the sun was nearly down.
Margaret produced identification.
Thomas verified her access.
Then the three of us stood in front of box 419.
Margaret inserted her key.
Thomas inserted the bank key.
The lock clicked.
She pulled out the box.
We carried it into the private room.
Inside was one blue envelope.
Nothing else.
My name was written across it.
LINDA — IF I FAIL AGAIN.
My hands shook.
I opened it.
The first page was Mama’s handwriting.
Linda,
If you are reading this, then I either found the courage to tell you, or I ran out of time.
I am sorry does not cover what I did.
I allowed fear to make decisions that belonged to you.
You had two daughters.
I held both.
You held both.
You named them Rebecca and Rose.
Tears blurred the words.
Rebecca squeezed my hand.
I kept reading.
Wayne wanted you to forget because the truth about their father would destroy several men who believed themselves untouchable.
I stopped.
Their father.
Singular.
Same father.
Rebecca and Emily were twins.
I continued.
Judge Warren was not the father.
David was not the father.
The birth certificates were altered to create confusion if anyone ever investigated.
The truth is in the original delivery log, but Pierce took it.
I tried for years to recover it.
I failed.
However, there is one person who knows the father’s identity.
Margaret leaned closer.
Rebecca whispered, “Who?”
I turned the page.
Mama had written a name.
I stared at it.
No.
I read it again.
Still no.
Thomas saw my face.
“What?”
I could not speak.
Rebecca took the letter from my shaking hands.
Her eyes moved to the final line.
Then she looked at me.
“Do you know him?”
“Yes.”
“Who is he?”
I swallowed.
The name Mama had written belonged to someone I had trusted more than anyone as a teenager.
Someone who had visited me in the hospital.
Someone who had cried beside Mama at David’s funeral.
Someone who was still alive.
Someone who had been at Mama’s funeral three days earlier.
Reverend James Coleman.
My high school youth pastor.
Rebecca looked confused.
“A pastor?”
I could barely breathe.
“He was twenty-nine when I was seventeen.”
Margaret whispered, “Oh God.”
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Hello?”
A woman’s voice.
“Is this Linda Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Emily Carter.”
Everything inside me stopped.
Rebecca’s eyes widened.
I put the phone on speaker.
Emily continued.
“I found your number in Evelyn’s papers.”
My throat closed.
“You knew Mama?”
“She came to see me last week.”
“Yes.”
“I wasn’t going to call you.”
My eyes filled.
“But something happened.”
“What?”
There was a long silence.
Then Emily whispered, “A man came to my house this morning asking whether Evelyn told me who my biological mother was.”
Rebecca grabbed my hand.
“Who was he?”
Emily’s breathing became shaky.
“He said his name was Reverend James Coleman.”
My blood turned cold.
“What did he want?”
“He wanted the letter Evelyn gave me.”
“Did you give it to him?”
“No.”
“Where are you now?”
Another silence.
“Linda…”
“What?”
“He came back tonight.”
I stood.
“Are you safe?”
“I locked myself in my bedroom.”
“Call the police.”
“I did.”
“Good.”
“I think he’s still downstairs.”
Rebecca covered her mouth.
I could hear something through the phone.
A crash.
Then footsteps.
Emily whispered, “Oh my God.”
“What?”
“He got inside.”
“Emily, stay on the phone.”
The line crackled.
Then I heard a man’s voice in the distance.
“Emily?”
My whole body froze.
I knew that voice.
Older now.
Deeper.
But I knew it.
Reverend Coleman.
The same voice that had prayed over Mama’s coffin.
The same man who had hugged me at the funeral and whispered, “Your mother carried many burdens.”
Emily started crying.
“He’s coming upstairs.”
“Hide.”
“I am.”
“Police are coming.”
“How do you know?”
“I—”
The bedroom door on her end rattled.
Rebecca shouted toward the phone.
“Emily! Move something in front of the door!”
Silence.
Then another violent bang.
Emily gasped.
“Linda?”
“Yes.”
“If something happens—”
“Nothing is happening.”
“Please listen.”
“Emily—”
“Evelyn gave me a photograph.”
My heart pounded.
“Of what?”
“The night we were born.”
Another crash.
Then Emily said the sentence that changed the direction of everything.
“Reverend Coleman is in it.”
My hands went cold.
“But he isn’t standing beside you.”
“Where is he?”
Emily’s voice became a whisper.
“He’s holding one of us.”
Rebecca stared at the phone.
“Which one?”
“I don’t know.”
Then the bedroom door splintered.
Emily screamed.
The call went dead……………..
TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 6…
