Chapter 8: The Woman Who Never Stopped Looking
I left my father's house without saying goodbye.
The address on the photograph belonged to a small town called Bellweather, Vermont.
According to Daniel, it was a little over four hours from Manhattan.
I wanted to leave immediately.
But he insisted we take precautions.
“Eleanor, if Catherine has been hiding for thirty-two years, showing up without warning could put her in danger.””
“She sent me an address.””
“Eleven years ago.””
“Which means she wanted me to find her.””
Daniel studied the photograph.
“Or someone wanted you to believe that.””
I looked at him.
“Do you think my father is lying?””
“I think everyone has been lying.””
He wasn't wrong.
I booked a hotel near the address and arranged for a driver.
Before leaving, I called my father.
He didn't answer.
I sent one message.
I'm going to find Catherine. If you know anything else, tell me before I discover it from someone else.
He replied twenty minutes later.
Please don't go alone.
I stared at the message.
Then I turned off my phone.
Bellweather was the kind of town that looked untouched by time.
Small shops lined the main street. A church stood beside a bakery. The sidewalks were wet from an earlier rain, and the mountains beyond the town were covered in autumn-colored trees.
The address led me to a modest white house with blue shutters.
There was a wooden swing on the porch.
A small garden.
And a mailbox bearing the name C. Moore.
My heart began racing.
I knocked.
No answer.
I knocked again.
A dog barked somewhere inside.
Then I heard footsteps.
The door opened.
An elderly woman stood before me.
Her hair was almost entirely silver, and she wore a pale cardigan over a simple dress.
Her eyes were exactly like mine.
She stared at me.
I couldn't speak.
She slowly lifted one hand to her mouth.
“Eleanor?””
My knees nearly gave way.
“Are you Catherine Moore?””
She began crying.
“Oh, sweetheart.””
I stepped back.
“Please don't call me that.””
She lowered her hand.
“I'm sorry.””
I looked at her face.
The scar near her temple was still visible.
“Did you send this?””
I held up the photograph.
She nodded.
“Years ago.””
“Why?””
“Because I didn't know whether you were safe.””
“Safe from whom?””
She looked down the street.
“Come inside.””
I hesitated.
Then I stepped across the threshold.
The house smelled of cinnamon and old books.
Family photographs covered the hallway walls, but none included a husband or children.
Catherine led me into a small sitting room.
She poured tea with trembling hands.
I didn't touch mine.
“Tell me what happened,” I said.
She sat opposite me.
For a moment, she seemed unable to find the words.
Then she began.
“I met Peter when I was twenty-two. He was charming, ambitious, and convinced the world owed him something.””
“That sounds familiar.””
A sad smile crossed her face.
“He told me he was separated. He wasn't. When I discovered I was pregnant, he promised to leave his wife.””
“Did he?””
“No.””
She looked at the photograph in my hand.
“But he loved you. In his own way.””
I felt anger rise.
“Then why did he take me?””
“Because he believed he could use you to secure his inheritance.””
I stared at her.
“What?””
Catherine reached for a folder beside the sofa.
“Peter had discovered that his father intended to leave the controlling interest in Bennett Global Holdings to Richard. He believed having a biological heir would strengthen his position in a family dispute.””
“Me.””
She nodded.
“He wanted you registered as his legitimate child. He thought it would give him leverage.””
I shook my head.
“So he took me from you?””
“He tried.””
“What do you mean?””
Catherine opened the folder.
Inside were old letters, hospital records, and a newspaper clipping.
“Margaret helped me escape with you. But Peter discovered our plans. The night before we were supposed to leave, he arrived with Charles.””
“Charles was there?””
“Yes. He was fourteen.””
I stared at her.
“What happened?””
“Peter demanded that I give you to him. Margaret refused. Richard arrived later, and there was a terrible argument.””
“Was anyone hurt?””
Catherine's eyes filled.
“Margaret was struck. She fell down the stairs.””
I gripped the armrest.
“Was she killed?””
“No. But she suffered a serious head injury.””
I remembered the years after my mother's supposed illness.
The headaches.
The long hospital visits.
The periods when my father said she was tired.
“She survived?””
“For a while.””
“Then why did everyone say she died years later?””
Catherine looked at me.
“Because Margaret eventually lost her memory. Some days she knew who you were. Other days she believed you were still a baby.””
I felt tears burn my eyes.
My father had told me my mother died peacefully.
But perhaps he had been trying to describe something much worse.
“What happened to you?””
“Richard helped me leave. He told me Peter would never stop searching for you.””
“And you believed him?””
“I had no choice.””
She leaned forward.
“Eleanor, I tried to come back. More than once. But every time I got close, someone contacted me and warned me that you would be taken away.””
“Who?””
“I never knew.””
I looked around the room.
“Why didn't you tell me sooner?””
“Because I was afraid.””
“Of Peter?””
“Of Peter, of Charles, and eventually of Grant.””
My head snapped up.
“Grant?””
She nodded.
“About two years ago, a man came here asking questions about Bennett Global Holdings. He showed me photographs of you and said he was your husband.””
My stomach tightened.
“What did he want?””
“He wanted to know whether I had the original adoption papers.””
“Did you?””
Catherine stood and walked to a locked cabinet.
She removed a small wooden box.
Inside was a bundle of documents tied with a ribbon.
“I kept everything.””
I untied the ribbon.
The first document was my original birth registration.
The second was an adoption agreement.
The third was a letter from Margaret.
I unfolded it.
Dear Catherine,
I promise that Eleanor will never know she was born into a family that sees children as property. I will give her the childhood you wanted for her. I will love her as my own. And when the danger has passed, I will tell her the truth.
I pressed the letter against my chest.
My mother had known.
She had loved me.
And she had carried the weight of that secret for decades.
Catherine touched my hand.
“She loved you more than anyone I've ever known.””
I wiped my eyes.
“Then why did she never tell me?””
“Because the danger never passed.””
I looked up.
“What danger?””
Catherine's expression changed.
She walked to the window and pulled the curtain aside.
A black SUV was parked across the street.
Its engine was running.
I stood.
“Do you know that car?””
She nodded slowly.
“I've seen it before.””
“Whose is it?””
She didn't answer.
Then my phone rang.
The caller ID showed Grant.
I answered.
“What?””
His voice was unusually calm.
“Eleanor, where are you?””
“Why?””
“Because I know you've found Catherine.””
I looked at the SUV.
“How do you know?””
“Because she's been watching you for years.””
I turned toward Catherine.
Grant continued.
“You need to leave that house.””
“Why?””
“Because the woman sitting beside you isn't telling you the whole truth.””
Catherine's face went pale.
“Grant, if you've followed me here—”
He interrupted.
“Ask her what happened to Margaret on the night she disappeared.””
I stared at Catherine.
She closed her eyes.
Grant lowered his voice.
“And ask her why the original adoption papers list two witnesses instead of one.””
I looked down at the documents.
He was right.
Two signatures appeared beneath the adoption agreement.
One belonged to Margaret Bennett.
The other belonged to Catherine Moore.
But the second signature was dated three days before I was born.
I looked up.
“Catherine?””
She began to cry.
And then she said something that changed everything.
“Eleanor, I didn't just give you to Margaret.””
May you like
She reached into the wooden box and removed another document.
“I gave her something else.””
