Chapter 8 - The Name Under the Soil
DNA testing was scheduled for Monday.
Margaret learned about it on Sunday.
No one told her.
That meant someone else was still feeding her information.
At 9:10 that morning Claire received a message from Margaret.
We need to talk privately.
Claire ignored it.
At 10:02 another arrived.
You are making a terrible mistake.
At 10:40:
The Barretts can give her things you cannot.
Claire’s hands went cold.
She showed Emma.
There was no longer any question.
Margaret knew.
Emma called her.
Margaret answered immediately.
“What did you do?”
Margaret sighed.
“Emma.”
“You gave Claire’s baby away.”
“I saved her from a life Claire was not ready to provide.”
“Claire wanted both babies.”
“She didn’t even know she was having two until delivery.”
“That doesn’t mean she didn’t want her.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain.”
Margaret’s voice hardened.
“I made a decision.”
“You committed a crime.”
“I made a decision when everyone else was panicking.”
“For seventy-five thousand dollars?”
Silence.
Emma laughed in disbelief.
“That’s what she was worth to you?”
“It wasn’t payment for the baby.”
“What was it?”
“Expenses.”
“Whose?”
Margaret disconnected.
Thirty minutes later Claire noticed Margaret in the garden.
She had entered through the rear gate.
“What is she doing here?”
Emma looked outside.
Margaret wore gloves and carried a small shovel.
She was digging beside the rosemary bed.
Claire started toward the door.
Emma stopped her.
“I’ll go.”
By the time Emma reached the garden, Margaret had returned to the kitchen carrying the white rosemary pot she had taken days earlier.
Mud covered her gloves.
Lily began crying in her portable bassinet near the breakfast table.
Margaret looked toward the baby.
Emma entered through the opposite doorway.
“What are you doing?”
Margaret grabbed Lily.
Emma ran.
What followed happened in less than fifteen seconds.
The sink.
The mud.
The slap.
The broken door.
Claire entering.
Then the bracelet.
LILY CARTER.
And beneath it:
ROSE CARTER.
FEMALE B.
Claire stared at the second band.
The world seemed to become perfectly still.
Rose.
She had never officially named Twin B.
But during pregnancy, before doctors knew there were two babies, Claire had kept two names in a notebook.
Lily.
Rose.
Margaret had seen that notebook.
“Why does it say Rose?” Emma whispered.
Claire looked through the glass.
Margaret stood outside, breathing hard.
“You named her.”
Margaret’s face crumpled for one second.
Then hardened again.
Claire unlocked the door but did not open it fully.
“Why?”
Margaret stepped closer.
“Claire, listen to me.”
“No.”
“There are things you don’t know.”
“You took my daughter.”
“I found her a stable family.”
“She had a family.”
“You were alone.”
“I had Emma.”
“Emma barely takes care of herself.”
Emma laughed bitterly.
“Nice.”
Claire’s voice rose.
“You had no right.”
Margaret slammed a hand against the glass.
“I was trying to keep this family from collapsing.”
“You sold my baby to pay your debts.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Then tell me what it was like.”
Margaret looked at both daughters.
For the first time, her confidence disappeared.
“Your father left money.”
“We know.”
Margaret flinched.
Emma stepped closer.
“We know about the trust.”
“You don’t know everything.”
“Three hundred thousand dollars.”
Margaret looked away.
Claire stared.
“You stole from us.”
“I borrowed.”
“From your daughters?”
“I was going to replace it.”
“With money from my baby?”
Margaret’s eyes filled.
“I had no choice.”
Claire became very still.
“There is always a choice before you steal a child.”
Margaret started crying.
Not dramatically.
Not loudly.
Almost angrily.
“I made investments. They failed. I borrowed more. I thought I could fix it. Agnes helped move money. Then they said there was another way.”
Emma felt sick.
“The baby.”
“They knew a family waiting for a newborn girl.”
Claire recoiled.
Margaret continued desperately.
“You were unconscious. Rose was healthy. The Barretts were good people. They wanted a child more than anything.”
“She was not yours to give.”
“I knew you would struggle with two.”
“She was mine.”
“I thought eventually you would be grateful.”
Claire stared at her mother as if she had never seen her before.
“Grateful?”
Margaret’s voice cracked.
“You had Lily.”
“And Rose had me.”
Silence.
Lily made a small noise against Claire’s chest.
Margaret reached toward the door.
Claire shut it.
Then locked it.
Margaret stared.
“Claire.”
“No.”
“I’m your mother.”
May you like
Claire’s eyes were dry now.
“And that is the last excuse you will ever use on me.”
