Chapter 6: The Daughter Who Never Came Home
I called my mother back seventeen times.
She didn't answer once.
On the eighteenth attempt, someone finally picked up.
It was Marcus.
"Stop calling this house.""
"Put Mom on the phone.""
"She's not available.""
"I want to talk to her.""
"You're not listening, Maya. This has gone far enough.""
I stood beside Daniel's desk, staring at the photograph of the hospital bracelet.
"She just told me I wasn't the baby she brought home from the hospital. Is that true?""
Marcus said nothing.
"Answer me!""
His voice dropped.
"Your mother was confused. She was upset. She shouldn't have said that.""
"Then tell me what happened.""
"You need to come home.""
"Why? So you can hide another document?""
"Because your mother is falling apart, and your grandfather is in the hospital.""
My stomach lurched.
"What?""
"Arthur collapsed an hour ago. He's being treated at St. Vincent's. He's asking for you.""
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
My grandfather had helped conceal my biological father, but he'd also been the person who taught me to read, who sat beside me when I had nightmares, and who once drove through a snowstorm to bring me medicine when I was sick.
He had betrayed me.
But he was still my grandfather.
"Is he conscious?""
"Yes.""
"Is he going to be okay?""
"The doctors are monitoring him.""
I closed my eyes.
"Put Mom on the phone.""
"She's with him.""
"Then give her the phone.""
Marcus exhaled sharply.
"Maya, if you come home, we'll tell you everything.""
I looked at Daniel.
He shook his head slightly.
He didn't trust the offer.
Neither did I.
"You've had eighteen years to tell me everything," I said.
"Why should I believe you now?""
"Because your grandfather may not have much time.""
The line went silent.
I hated him for using Arthur's condition to bring me back.
I hated myself for wanting to go.
And I hated the fact that, despite everything, I still worried about the people who had spent my entire life making me feel like I was never enough.
"I'll come," I said.
"But Daniel is coming with me.""
Marcus immediately objected.
"Absolutely not.""
"Then I'll stay here.""
He swore under his breath.
"Fine. Bring him. But don't say I didn't warn you.""
He ended the call.
Daniel grabbed his coat.
"We'll take my car.""
"Why are you helping me?""
He paused.
"Because you're my daughter.""
I looked away.
The words still felt strange.
He continued more gently.
"And because no one should have to discover their own identity alone.""
We drove through the evening rain, following the highway out of Boston. I sat in the passenger seat with my graduation diploma on my lap, staring at the blurred lights outside the window.
Daniel didn't force conversation.
After half an hour, I finally asked the question I'd been afraid to voice.
"If I'm not Diane's biological daughter, who is?""
He kept his eyes on the road.
"I don't know.""
"What if the other baby was the one who went home with her?""
"Then we need to establish who gave birth to whom.""
"And Noah?""
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
"We need to establish his identity too.""
I looked at him.
"Do you think my family knows?""
"I think your father knows more than he's admitting.""
I leaned against the window.
"Marcus isn't my biological father, but he raised me. If the baby he brought home wasn't his biological daughter either, then why did he treat me like I was a burden?""
Daniel was quiet for a moment.
"Sometimes people punish children for circumstances they cannot control.""
I thought about every birthday I'd spent watching Marcus carry Noah around while telling me I was old enough to understand why my celebration had to wait.
I thought about the way he looked at me whenever I asked for something that might inconvenience the family.
"Maybe he never wanted me," I whispered.
Daniel glanced at me.
"Maybe he didn't know how to love you without being reminded of something he wanted to forget.""
I turned toward him.
"That doesn't excuse what he did.""
"No," he said.
"It doesn't.""
When we reached St. Vincent's Hospital, it was nearly ten at night.
My mother sat outside Arthur's room, still wearing the cream blouse from that afternoon. Her makeup had run, and her hands were clasped so tightly that her knuckles looked bloodless.
When she saw me, she stood.
"Maya.""
I stopped several feet away.
"Is Grandpa okay?""
"The doctors say he's stable. His blood pressure dropped, and he fainted.""
I nodded, relieved despite myself.
"Can I see him?""
She looked at Daniel.
"Not with him.""
I stared at her.
"He's coming with me.""
"Maya, please. This is a family matter.""
I almost laughed.
"You mean the family matter you've spent eighteen years hiding from me?""
Her eyes filled with tears.
"I know you hate me.""
"I don't know what I feel.""
That was the truth.
I was furious with her. I wanted to demand every answer she'd ever withheld. But beneath the anger was a painful, childish hope that she might reach for me and tell me there was still a place for me in her life.
Instead, she looked at Daniel and said, "You shouldn't have come back.""
He met her gaze.
"I never left. You told me my daughter was dead.""
Diane flinched.
I stepped between them.
"Enough. Both of you.""
I turned toward my mother.
"Tell me what happened at the hospital.""
She looked toward Arthur's room.
"Your grandfather needs to speak first.""
"No. He can explain his part. You can explain yours.""
Her shoulders shook.
"I was twenty-one. I was terrified. Marcus and I had just gotten married, and I was pregnant. Then the doctor told me there had been a complication.""
"What complication?""
She stared at the floor.
"One of the babies had been placed under observation.""
"One of the babies?""
Her face drained of color.
She had said it without thinking.
I stepped closer.
"How many babies were there, Mom?""
She covered her mouth.
Before she could answer, the door to Arthur's room opened.
A nurse stepped into the corridor.
"Family of Arthur Bennett?""
We turned.
"He's awake," she said.
"But he's asking for Maya.""
I went inside.
Arthur lay beneath a white hospital blanket, an oxygen tube resting beneath his nose. His face looked smaller than I remembered, and the skin around his eyes was bruised with exhaustion.
When he saw me, he tried to sit up.
"Don't move," I said.
He settled back against the pillow.
"Maya.""
I pulled a chair beside the bed.
"Grandpa, I need you to tell me the truth.""
He closed his eyes.
"I know.""
"Did Mom bring home the wrong baby?""
His eyes opened.
For several seconds, he simply stared at me.
Then he nodded.
My throat tightened.
"Who was the baby she brought home?""
He looked toward the doorway, where Daniel stood quietly.
"That was the child Richard wanted protected.""
"Who was she?""
Arthur's fingers trembled against the blanket.
"Rebecca Collins's daughter.""
I felt the room tilt.
"My mother raised Rebecca's baby?""
"Yes.""
"Then where did her own baby go?""
He turned his face toward the window.
"Your mother believed her baby had died.""
I stared at him.
"Believed?""
Arthur swallowed.
"That's what she was told.""
"By whom?""
He looked at me again.
"Richard.""
I stood so abruptly that the chair scraped across the floor.
"Your son told Diane that her baby was dead, and he gave her another woman's child?""
Arthur began to cry.
"He said the premature baby wouldn't survive. He said the hospital needed to protect both families from a scandal.""
"What scandal?""
He hesitated.
Then Daniel stepped forward.
"Arthur, please. We need the truth now.""
My grandfather looked at him with an expression I couldn't understand.
"Daniel, I am sorry.""
Daniel's face tightened.
"For what?""
Arthur closed his eyes.
"For what my family did to you.""
I felt cold all over.
"Grandpa, where is my biological mother?""
Arthur's breathing became uneven.
He reached toward the bedside table, searching for something with trembling fingers.
I helped him.
Beneath a stack of tissues lay a small photograph.
It showed a woman in her early twenties standing outside a modest house, holding a little girl by the hand.
The woman had dark hair and kind eyes.
The little girl was perhaps four years old.
On the back, someone had written:
Rebecca and Maya Collins. Taken two years after the hospital incident.
I looked at the photograph.
The little girl had a crescent-shaped birthmark beside her left ear.
The same mark I had.
I lifted my hand to my own ear.
"That's me.""
Arthur nodded.
"Yes.""
I stared at the photograph again.
"Then who was the baby my mother raised?""
Arthur's lips trembled.
"Rebecca's daughter was named Maya at birth. Diane's daughter was named Elizabeth.""
The names seemed to echo around the room.
Maya Collins.
Elizabeth Bennett.
My mother had called me Maya Elizabeth Bennett my entire life.
Two names. Two identities. One child who had apparently been given both.
"Where is Elizabeth?"" I whispered.
Arthur began to cry harder.
"I don't know.""
I stared at him.
"What do you mean you don't know?""
"Richard told Diane that her daughter had died. He told Rebecca that her baby had been transferred for medical care and had not survived. Then he arranged for Diane to leave the hospital with Rebecca's daughter.""
"Why?""
Arthur looked toward Daniel.
"Because Richard believed his own granddaughter was the only child who could inherit the family business without a scandal.""
I couldn't understand.
"What does that have to do with me?""
"Elizabeth had a medical condition that Richard believed would make her ineligible to inherit the trust. He thought the family would lose everything if the truth came out.""
Daniel frowned.
"What condition?""
Arthur hesitated.
"A heart defect. It was treatable, but Richard refused to accept it.""
I felt sick.
"So he gave my mother someone else's baby because he thought his own granddaughter was defective?""
Arthur covered his face.
"Yes.""
"And what happened to Elizabeth?""
"I was told she died.""
"You were told?""
He nodded weakly.
"I never saw a death certificate. I never saw her body. Richard said the hospital had handled everything.""
Daniel stepped closer to the bed.
"Arthur, do you have any evidence that Elizabeth died?""
My grandfather shook his head.
"No.""
The room fell silent.
For eighteen years, my family had treated me as though I was an inconvenience.
But I might have been the child they had chosen to keep.
And somewhere, another girl might have grown up without knowing her name, her history, or the family that had searched for her in all the wrong places.
I sat down slowly.
"Why didn't you tell me?""
Arthur reached for my hand.
"Because I was afraid.""
"Of what?""
"Of losing the family.""
I looked at his trembling fingers resting against mine.
"You let me lose myself to protect it.""
He began to sob.
I gently withdrew my hand.
Daniel stood beside me, silent and pale.
Then Arthur gripped my wrist with surprising strength.
"Maya, listen to me. There is something else you need to know.""
I leaned closer.
"What?""
He glanced toward the door, then whispered, "Richard didn't choose Rebecca's baby at random.""
My heart began to pound.
"What do you mean?""
Arthur's eyes filled with terror.
"Before the hospital incident, Richard had already met Rebecca. He knew who she was. He knew something about her family.""
"What did he know?""
My grandfather opened his mouth.
A monitor began beeping faster.
The nurse rushed inside, ordering us to step back.
Arthur struggled to breathe.
"Grandpa!""
He reached toward me one final time.
Then he whispered a name.
"Collins.""
His eyes rolled shut.
The nurse pushed us into the corridor while another medical worker hurried to the bed.
I stood frozen beside Daniel.
My grandfather had admitted that my entire identity had been built on a hospital deception. He had confirmed that another child might still be alive somewhere.
And just before he lost consciousness, he'd revealed that Richard Bennett hadn't chosen Rebecca Collins by accident.
Daniel put a hand on my shoulder.
"Maya, we need to find Rebecca.""
I looked down at the photograph.
The little girl beside her mother had my face, my birthmark, and the name I had carried my entire life.
But the more I stared at it, the more I noticed something else.
The photograph had been taken two years after my birth.
And on Rebecca's wrist was a hospital bracelet identical to the one my mother had sent me.
I turned the photograph over.
There was another line beneath the original message, written in different ink.
If anything happens to me, find Elizabeth. She is not the child they brought home.
I looked at Daniel.
"Who wrote this?""
He examined the handwriting.
Then he went completely still.
"I've seen this before.""
"Where?""
He reached into his coat pocket and removed the letter his father had supposedly never received.
It was the original letter Daniel had been searching for since my birth.
At the bottom was a signature.
*Rebecca Collins.*
Daniel looked at me with a mixture of shock and dread.
"Your biological mother may have known exactly what Richard did.""
I stared at the photograph, my hands trembling.
"If she knew, why didn't she come for me?""
Daniel turned the letter over.
On the back, written in a hurried hand, were seven words.
*Because Richard Bennett threatened to kill her.*
And beneath those words was a date.
May you like
A date from six years ago.
The year Noah was born.
