Chapter 5 - THE WOMAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
Two days passed.
I didn't answer Dante's calls.
I didn't go to the market.
I barely ate.
Then I found another photograph.
It was hidden inside my mother's old sewing box.
A dark-haired woman held a little girl.
The girl had curly hair.
Brown eyes.
And a tiny scar above her eyebrow.
I touched my own scar.
The woman was Eleanor Hale.
My biological mother.
On the back, Sarah had written:
She loved you enough to let you go.
I sat on the bedroom floor and cried.
Then I searched through more boxes.
I found letters.
Old medical records.
A birth certificate.
My name.
Emma Hale.
My mother's name.
Eleanor Hale.
And a blank space where my father's name should have been.
I stared at it.
Something didn't make sense.
If Victor Hale was my biological father, why wasn't his name listed?
I called Dante.
He answered immediately.
“Emma?”
“I found my birth certificate.”
Silence.
“Dante?”
“I'm here.”
“Why is the father's name blank?”
He hesitated.
“Because Eleanor was trying to protect you.”
“From Victor?”
“Yes.”
I swallowed.
“Was he my father?”
Dante was silent for several seconds.
Then he said, “I don't know for certain.”
I closed my eyes.
“Then why did you let me believe he was?”
“Because that's what Thomas believed.”
I stared at the paper.
“Did Eleanor ever tell you?”
“No.”
I took a breath.
“Where is she?”
Dante's voice softened.
“We don't know.”
“Is she dead?”
“I don't know.”
I looked toward the window.
The bees moved peacefully around their hives.
For years, I'd believed my family story was simple.
Now everything was uncertain.
“Help me find her,” I whispered.
May you like
Dante didn't hesitate.
“I will.”
