Chapter 3 - The Woman in the Photograph)
The wedding guests were told Claire had suffered a severe migraine.
It was the kind of lie Richard Whitmore normally would have considered humiliating.
That afternoon, he did not object.
Claire changed out of her wedding gown in seven minutes.
She put on jeans, a white shirt and the first shoes she found.
Daniel removed his boutonniere and tie.
Rachel stayed behind to manage the guests and promised to tell no one the truth.
Richard demanded that Claire remain at the mansion.
Claire walked past him.
He grabbed her arm.
"Bellwater is two hours away."
She pulled free.
"Then I should leave now."
"You don't know what's there."
"Apparently you do."
"I know enough to tell you this is dangerous."
Claire stopped.
"Then come with us."
Richard looked away.
That was his answer.
Daniel drove.
Lily sat in the back seat with her aunt Margaret, who had arrived at the mansion pale and shaking after Rachel called her.
Margaret Hale was Anna's older sister.
She had worked as Whitmore Hall's head housekeeper for twelve years.
Claire had known her since college.
She had never suspected Margaret knew anything about Evelyn.
For the first thirty minutes of the drive, no one spoke.
Then Claire turned in the passenger seat.
"Margaret."
The older woman looked up.
"How much did Anna tell you?"
Margaret's hands tightened in her lap.
"Not enough."
"Did she know my mother?"
"Yes."
Claire's breath caught.
"How?"
Margaret looked toward Lily.
"Your mother hired Anna."
"When?"
"Twenty-one years ago."
Claire stared at her.
"Anna worked at Whitmore Hall before I knew her?"
"Not at the house."
"Then where?"
Margaret hesitated.
"A clinic."
Daniel looked into the rearview mirror.
"What kind of clinic?"
Margaret's voice lowered.
"A private psychiatric facility."
Claire felt something hard form in her stomach.
"Was my mother a patient?"
Margaret nodded.
"Anna was a nursing assistant. She was twenty-three."
Claire turned fully toward her.
"My father said my mother left."
Margaret shook her head.
"Anna said she was taken."
The highway blurred outside.
Claire could hear the tires against the road.
"Taken by whom?"
"She didn't know at first."
"What happened?"
Margaret looked down at her hands.
"Anna was assigned to night shifts. Your mother was admitted under another name. No visitors were listed. No phone calls. No letters."
"What name?"
"Elaine Ward."
Claire repeated it silently.
Margaret continued.
"Anna realized something was wrong because your mother didn't behave like the other patients. She wasn't confused. She wasn't violent. She kept asking for a lawyer."
Daniel asked, "Did she say why she was being held?"
"She said her husband had committed her."
Claire closed her eyes.
"My father."
"Anna never told me his name back then. She was frightened."
Claire opened her eyes again.
"How long was my mother there?"
"Four months."
Claire stopped breathing.
Four months.
While nine-year-old Claire had been mourning.
While teachers had whispered sympathetically around her.
While Richard had taken her to the cemetery every Sunday.
Evelyn had been alive.
Locked in a clinic.
"What happened after four months?"
"She disappeared."
"Escaped?"
Margaret shook her head.
"No. Transferred."
"Where?"
"Anna didn't know."
Lily suddenly spoke.
"Mom found her again."
Everyone turned toward the child.
Claire's heart jumped.
"When?"
Lily squeezed the fabric of her dress.
"Last winter."
Margaret looked shocked.
"Lily, you never told me that."
"Mom said not to."
Claire tried to keep her voice calm.
"What happened?"
Lily looked toward the passing trees.
"Mom was driving me home from dance class. She saw a woman outside a pharmacy."
"In Bellwater?"
Lily nodded.
"Mom stopped the car. She started crying."
"What did she say?"
"She said, 'Oh my God, it's Evelyn.'"
Claire's eyes burned.
"Did you meet her?"
Lily nodded again.
"She didn't know Mom at first."
"Did she know her own name?"
"Sometimes."
"What do you mean?"
"She called herself Elaine."
Claire's fingers tightened against the seat.
Lily continued.
"But then Mom showed her an old picture. The lady started crying. She said my name."
Claire's breath caught.
"Your name?"
"No. She said Claire."
Daniel looked at Claire.
Claire stared straight ahead.
"Then she remembered me."
Lily nodded.
"Mom took us to the blue house."
"Whose house?"
"An old man's."
"What old man?"
"I don't know. He walked with a cane. Mom called him Dr. Mercer."
Daniel frowned.
"Mercer?"
Claire turned.
"Rachel's last name is Mercer."
Daniel's expression darkened.
"Coincidence?"
Claire immediately called Rachel.
She answered on the first ring.
"Tell me you're okay."
"Rachel, do you have a relative named Dr. Mercer?"
A pause.
"Yes."
Claire's heart dropped.
"Who?"
"My grandfather."
"What did he do?"
"He was a psychiatrist."
Claire looked at Daniel.
"Where did he live?"
Another pause.
"Bellwater."
Claire's mouth went dry.
"Rachel, what was his address?"
"I don't know. He died five years ago."
"Did he own a blue house on Mariner's Road?"
Silence.
"Claire, how do you know about that house?"
Claire's blood went cold.
"You've been there."
"Once. When I was little."
"Rachel."
"I barely remember it."
"Was my mother there?"
"What?"
"Was Evelyn there?"
"Claire, I was six."
"Ask your parents."
Rachel inhaled sharply.
"My parents are still at your house."
"Ask them now."
Claire ended the call.
Daniel turned off the highway twenty minutes later.
A road sign appeared.
Bellwater.
The town sat along a broad coastal inlet north of Boston.
It was quiet, wealthy and old.
Mariner's Road ran beside the water.
Number 17 stood behind a line of cedar trees.
The house was blue.
Exactly as Lily described.
Daniel parked at the edge of the driveway.
Claire's heart was beating painfully.
No cars.
No movement.
Curtains drawn.
Lily leaned between the front seats.
"That's it."
Claire opened the door.
Margaret said, "Maybe we should call the police."
Daniel looked at Claire.
She shook her head.
"Call them and say what? My mother died twenty years ago, except maybe she didn't, and a seven-year-old saw her here?"
Daniel stepped out.
"We look first."
They walked toward the house.
The front door was unlocked.
That frightened Claire more than if it had been bolted.
Inside, the air smelled of dust and lavender.
Claire froze.
Lavender.
Her mother had always smelled like lavender.
She walked down a narrow hallway.
There were dishes in the sink.
A cardigan over a chair.
An open book on the table.
Someone had been living there recently.
Claire saw a framed photograph on a shelf.
She picked it up.
Anna Hale stood beside an older woman with silver-streaked dark hair.
The woman was thin.
Tired.
But unmistakable.
Evelyn.
Claire's mother was smiling.
And the photograph had been taken only months ago.
On the back, Anna had written a date.
February 14.
Claire pressed one hand over her mouth.
Daniel stood behind her.
"Oh, Claire."
A floorboard creaked upstairs.
Everyone froze.
Daniel moved in front of Claire.
Another sound.
A door closing.
Claire looked toward the staircase.
"Mom?"
Silence.
Then a woman's voice answered from above.
May you like
"Claire?"
Claire forgot how to breathe.
