Chapter 7 - THE MOTHER WHO HAD BEEN SILENCED
My mother had suffered a traumatic brain injury twelve years earlier.
Her medical records showed repeated transfers between private facilities.
Several documents contained inconsistent names.
Some listed her as Miriam Ellis.
Others used the name Margaret Lane.
None mentioned her daughter.
Dr. Benton explained that my mother's memory was fragmented.
She remembered certain events vividly.
Others were inaccessible.
Stress sometimes made her confused.
But she was not incapable of understanding what had happened to her.
I sat beside her for hours.
We looked at photographs.
I told her about nursing school.
My apartment.
My foster mother, who had died two years earlier.
The ordinary life I'd built.
Sometimes Mom smiled.
Sometimes she cried.
Sometimes she asked the same question twice.
I answered every time.
Then she asked:
“Did Adrian survive?”
My heart stopped.
“You remember Adrian?”
She nodded.
“He helped the children.”
I leaned closer.
“Where did they take him?”
Her expression changed.
“The lighthouse.”
I swallowed.
“What happened there?”
She looked toward the door.
“Eleanor kept the names.”
“What names?”
“The children.”
I took her hand.
“Mom, what was Room 417?”
Her fingers tightened.
She whispered:
“Not a room.”
I felt cold.
“Then what?”
“A list.”
My pulse quickened.
“What kind of list?”
She looked directly at me.
“The people who paid.”
I called Detective Ortiz immediately.
My mother agreed to speak with investigators when she felt able.
Her statement was carefully documented with appropriate medical support.
That evening, I called Dominic.
He answered on the first ring.
“Grace?”
I couldn't speak.
“Did you find her?”
I nodded, forgetting he couldn't see me.
“Yes.”
His breath caught.
“Is she all right?”
“She's alive.”
I began crying.
“Dominic, she's alive.”
He was silent.
Then said softly:
“I'm so glad.”
I sat on the edge of the hotel bed.
“She remembers Adrian.”
Dominic went still.
“What did she say?”
“She asked if he survived.”
Silence.
Then he whispered:
“Maybe he did.”
I closed my eyes.
For twelve years, we'd both lived with ghosts.
May you like
Now one of mine had opened her eyes.
And I began to believe his might be waiting somewhere too.
