Chapter 9 - the sister who had another name)
Adrian ordered DNA testing before Clara finished telling him what Robert had said.
Daniel refused.
“At least at first.”
He paced the study, shaking his head.
“This is insane.”
Clara placed the photograph on the desk.
“Look at her.”
“I am.”
“Tell me you don’t see it.”
Daniel looked away.
“She resembles you.”
“She looks like me.”
“People look alike.”
“Robert said she wasn’t born Rebecca Hayes.”
“Robert is manipulating you.”
“Probably. That doesn’t make everything false.”
Daniel pressed both hands against his head.
“So what are you suggesting?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Yes, you do.”
Clara remained silent.
Daniel stared.
“You think she was family.”
“I think Dad was hiding something.”
“He always hid things.”
“Not like this.”
Adrian returned with an old file retrieved from a private medical database through legal authorization.
He placed it on the desk.
“Rebecca’s blood type.”
Clara looked.
O negative.
Her own blood type.
Daniel was A positive.
Adrian said, “Not proof.”
“No.”
“But it’s consistent.”
Daniel laughed bitterly.
“With what?”
Nobody answered.
He sank onto the sofa.
“Let’s say she was related to us. How?”
Clara thought of Charles.
His rigid rules.
His obsession with family image.
His refusal to discuss the years before Clara’s birth.
“Our father.”
Daniel shook his head immediately.
“No.”
“He traveled constantly.”
“No.”
“What?”
“He loved Mom.”
“That didn’t stop him from being human.”
“Don’t.”
“Daniel.”
“Don’t turn him into that.”
Clara softened.
“I’m not turning him into anything. I’m trying to learn who he was.”
Adrian opened another file.
“There may be another possibility.”
They looked at him.
“Clara’s birth records are incomplete.”
Clara’s eyes narrowed.
“What?”
“You were born at St. Matthew’s.”
“Yes.”
“The hospital closed in 1998. Records were transferred.”
“So?”
“Your original birth certificate lists Charles and Margaret Vance.”
“That’s normal.”
“Yes. But the hospital delivery log for your birth date contains two female infants linked to Margaret Vance’s attending physician.”
Daniel frowned.
“Twins?”
Clara stared.
“My mother never had twins.”
Adrian looked at her.
“How certain are you?”
“She would have told me.”
“Would Charles?”
The room became silent.
Clara sat slowly.
“No.”
Daniel stood.
“No. Absolutely not.”
Adrian continued.
“The second infant entry has no name. Only Baby Female B.”
Clara stopped breathing.
“Baby Female B?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to her?”
“The record says transferred.”
“Where?”
“No destination.”
Daniel whispered, “Oh my God.”
Clara looked at the photograph again.
Rebecca.
Twenty-two.
Same age as Clara.
Same blood type.
Same face.
Robert’s adopted daughter.
The room seemed to tilt.
Clara closed her eyes.
She remembered her mother.
Margaret Vance.
Elegant.
Warm in public.
Distant in private.
She had died when Clara was nineteen.
Clara remembered childhood questions.
Why were there no pictures from the hospital?
Why had her mother once cried uncontrollably when Clara asked whether she had wanted more children?
Why had Charles shut down the conversation?
Clara opened her eyes.
“We test.”
Daniel whispered, “How?”
“Rebecca is dead.”
Adrian said, “There may be stored tissue.”
Daniel looked horrified.
“From where?”
“The rehabilitation center kept pathology material following two procedures.”
Clara stood.
“Get a court order.”
Adrian nodded.
Daniel said, “Wait.”
Clara turned.
“If she was your twin…”
He could not finish.
Clara did.
“Then you didn’t injure Victoria’s sister.”
Daniel stared at her.
“You injured ours.”
The words broke something.
Daniel bent forward.
Clara crossed the room and held him.
For the first time since childhood, he cried against her shoulder.
Not quietly.
Not with dignity.
He cried like someone who had just discovered the worst night of his life was even worse than he had believed.
Clara held him until he stopped shaking.
Then her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered.
A woman spoke.
“Ms. Vance?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Dr. Miriam Lane.”
Clara frowned.
“I was Rebecca Hayes’s neurologist.”
Clara sat down.
“How did you get my number?”
“Your father gave it to me seventeen years ago.”
Clara’s heart stopped.
“What?”
“He told me to call you if anyone ever began asking questions about Rebecca.”
“Why now?”
The woman hesitated.
“Because someone came to my house last night.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did they want?”
“Rebecca’s medical files.”
“Did you give them anything?”
“No.”
Clara heard breathing.
Then the woman whispered.
“But they knew the name she used before Robert Hayes adopted her.”
Clara gripped the phone.
“What name?”
May you like
The doctor answered.
“Clara.”
