Chapter 5 - THE WOMAN IN GREEN
Robert dug until the afternoon light faded.
The metal box Ellen had buried beneath the cedar tree was gone.
All that remained was a torn piece of green fabric caught on a root.
Robert held it beneath the porch light.
“It matches the dress worn by the woman in the footage.”
Ellen looked confused.
“What woman?”
Robert showed her the enlarged still image Daniel had sent from the venue.
The figure behind the floral arrangement was blurred, but the dark green dress was visible.
Ellen stared at the picture.
“Do you recognize her?”
“I’m not sure.”
“She watched Michael push you.”
Ellen enlarged the image on Robert’s phone.
Her breath caught.
“What?”
“The bracelet.”
Robert looked closely. A thin silver chain circled the woman’s wrist. Attached was a small crescent-shaped charm.
“You know it?”
“Margaret had one exactly like it.”
“Could this be Margaret?”
“Margaret is dead.”
“Did you see her body?”
Ellen looked at him sharply.
“No. Cassandra told me she died.”
Robert felt a new possibility forming.
“When?”
“Six years ago.”
“Cause?”
“Cancer.”
“Did you attend the funeral?”
“I wasn’t invited.”
“Did you see an obituary?”
“No.”
Robert stared at the image again.
“Maybe Margaret isn’t dead.”
Ellen shook her head.
“She would have contacted me.”
“Unless she believed you betrayed her.”
Pain crossed Ellen’s face.
“Perhaps I did.”
Before Robert could ask what she meant, a car stopped outside the house.
Michael emerged alone.
He walked toward the porch but stopped when he saw the hole near the cedar tree.
“What are you doing?”
Robert stood.
“What are you?”
Michael looked exhausted. His tie was loose, and dark circles shadowed his eyes.
“Can we talk?”
“About the assault or the missing tape?”
Michael glanced at Ellen.
“You told him everything?”
“Not everything,” Robert said.
Michael looked relieved.
Robert hated him for it.
“Come inside,” Ellen said quietly.
They entered the living room.
Michael remained standing.
“Cassandra is gone.”
Robert folded his arms.
“Gone where?”
“I don’t know. She left the hotel this morning.”
“Did she take the cassette?”
Michael frowned.
“What cassette?”
“The one from your old bedroom.”
Michael looked at his mother.
“I thought you had it.”
“You told me to ask her about the recording,” Robert said.
“I heard it years ago.”
Ellen went still.
“When?”
“I was sixteen.”
“How?”
“I found the recorder in your closet.”
Ellen sat slowly.
“What did you hear?”
“Margaret accusing you of stealing her child.”
Robert looked at his wife.
Ellen shook her head.
“That is not what she said.”
“It was exactly what she said.”
“She was angry. She believed everyone had betrayed her.”
Michael’s voice rose.
“She said, ‘You walked out of that clinic with the wrong baby.’”
Robert felt the air leave the room.
He turned toward Ellen.
“What does that mean?”
Ellen covered her mouth.
Michael laughed bitterly.
“Here we go.”
“Tell me,” Robert demanded.
Ellen’s hands trembled.
“During the blackout, the babies were moved.”
“Moved where?”
“To a warmer room near the generator.”
“And?”
“When the nurse returned Michael to me, his identification band was missing.”
Robert stared.
“You never told me that.”
“I asked questions. They said it had fallen off.”
“And Margaret’s baby?”
“Her band was missing too.”
Michael stepped forward.
“Margaret believed I was Rose.”
Robert looked at him.
“That makes no sense. Rose was a girl.”
“The recording said the clinic changed records.”
Ellen shook her head.
“Margaret was confused. She had found documents suggesting one baby’s gender had been falsified.”
Michael’s expression twisted.
“So for years, you wondered whether I was actually her child.”
“No.”
“That is a lie.”
“I had tests done.”
Robert’s head snapped toward her.
“What tests?”
“Blood tests when Michael was four.”
“Without telling me?”
“I needed to know.”
Michael’s eyes filled with anger.
“And?”
Ellen looked at him.
“You are my biological son.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did Margaret say you took the wrong child?”
“Because the child I carried out of the clinic was not the child first placed in my arms.”
The room went silent.
Robert gripped the back of a chair.
“Explain.”
Ellen looked as though she had reached the edge of a cliff.
“After Michael was born, a nurse placed him beside me. He had a small red mark behind his left ear.”
Michael instinctively touched the spot.
“There is no mark,” he said.
“No.”
Robert understood first.
“The baby they gave you the next morning didn’t have it.”
Ellen nodded.
Michael staggered back.
“But you said the tests proved I was yours.”
“They proved we share enough genetic markers to be mother and son.”
“Enough?”
“The laboratory used an older test. It was not as accurate as modern DNA testing.”
Michael stared at her.
“You never repeated it?”
“I was afraid of what I might learn.”
“You let me live thirty-one years without knowing who I am.”
“I raised you. I loved you.”
“That is not the same as telling me the truth.”
Robert stepped between them.
“You do not get to accuse her after what you did.”
Michael’s face hardened.
“You think the shove was the worst thing that happened in that hallway?”
“I watched it.”
“You didn’t hear what she said before it.”
“What did she say?”
Michael looked at Ellen.
“She told me Cassandra might be my sister.”
Robert froze.
Ellen closed her eyes.
Michael continued, voice shaking.
“She came to my wedding and told me there was a chance I had married the missing baby from St. Matthew’s.”
Robert turned slowly toward his wife.
“Is that true?”
Ellen whispered, “Margaret believed Rose was raised as Cassandra Cross.”
Michael laughed without humor.
“And now you understand why I stopped her from entering the ballroom.”
“You could have walked away,” Robert said. “You could have asked for a test. You could have done anything except attack her.”
“I panicked.”
“You left her unconscious.”
“I thought she was pretending.”
Ellen flinched.
Robert moved closer to Michael.
“You will answer for that.”
Michael’s eyes reddened.
“I know.”
It was the first sign of remorse Robert had seen.
Then Michael reached into his coat and placed a sealed envelope on the table.
Robert recognized his own name written across the front.
“Where did you get that?”
“A woman gave it to me outside the hotel.”
“What woman?”
“She wore a green dress.”
Ellen rose.
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did she give you her name?”
Michael shook his head.
“She said you would understand after reading this.”
Robert picked up the envelope.
It was old and water-stained.
On the back was a crescent-shaped wax seal.
Ellen whispered, “That was Margaret’s symbol.”
Robert broke the seal.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
The message contained only two sentences.
May you like
Robert, the child Ellen brought home was hers.
But the child born to Ellen that night was not the only Whitaker baby inside St. Matthew’s.
