Chapter 4: The Family That Feared My Questions
For several seconds after my mother hung up, I couldn't move.
The silver heart locket lay open in my palm, catching the bright chapel lights. My wedding dress rustled as I turned toward Grant, who was watching me with a look I had never seen on his face before.
Fear.
Not the ordinary discomfort of a man caught between his wife and his parents. Something deeper.
“Clara,” Grant said, “we need to talk about what your mother just said.””
I looked at him sharply.
“You heard her. She said your family has kept secrets.””
“My mother has been gone for years. I don't know what she could possibly mean.””
“Then why did your father look like he'd seen a ghost when he saw that photograph?””
Grant rubbed his forehead.
“I don't know.””
“You keep saying that.””
“Because I don't!””
His voice echoed through the chapel.
He immediately lowered it.
“I'm sorry. I'm trying to understand this, too.””
I studied him. We had been together for three years, engaged for eight months, and married for less than an hour. I knew how he took his coffee, what songs he listened to when he was stressed, and that he called his father every Sunday evening.
But I had never asked enough questions about the family that had welcomed me into their world.
Perhaps I had been too busy making sure they liked me.
“Did your father ever talk about a man named Bennett?”” I asked.
Grant shook his head.
“Not that I remember.””
“Did he ever mention someone disappearing from his life?””
“Clara, my father doesn't discuss his personal history very much.””
“Convenient.””
He flinched.
I regretted the word almost immediately, but I couldn't take it back.
Grant took my hand.
“Let's go home. We'll speak to him tomorrow, and we'll figure this out together.””
I looked down at his wedding ring.
“Together?””
“Yes.””
“Then I need you to promise me something.””
“What?””
“If your father knows anything about my father, you won't protect him from me.””
Grant's fingers tightened around mine.
“I promise.””
Neither of us noticed the chapel attendant approaching until she cleared her throat.
“Mr. Hayes asked me to give you this.””
She handed Grant a cream-colored envelope.
His name was written across the front in his father's precise handwriting.
Grant opened it.
Inside was a short note.
Do not discuss this matter with anyone until we have spoken privately. Especially Clara.
I read the sentence over his shoulder.
My heart began pounding.
“Especially Clara?””
Grant folded the note.
“He probably wants to protect your privacy.””
“Then why didn't he write that?””
“Clara—”
“Your father just told me a stranger in an old photograph was my biological father, and now he's asking you to keep me out of the conversation.””
Grant looked down at the paper.
For the first time, he had nothing to say.
I walked toward the chapel doors, lifting the front of my wedding gown so I wouldn't step on the hem.
“Where are you going?”” he asked.
“To find my mother.””
“You can't just leave.””
I turned around.
“Watch me.””
He followed me into the entrance hall, where the afternoon light poured through tall glass windows. The air smelled of roses and polished wood. A few guests looked up as I passed, then quickly pretended they hadn't been watching.
Grant caught up with me near the doors.
“Clara, please. You can't drive in this condition.””
“Then call me a car.””
“Let me take you.””
I looked at him.
“You said we'd figure this out together. Start by telling me why your father wants to speak privately.””
Grant pulled out his phone.
“I'll call him.””
He dialed.
I stood close enough to hear the ringing.
When Mr. Hayes answered, Grant switched on the speaker.
“Dad, we received your note,” he said.
“Clara is here with me.””
A pause.
Then his father's voice came through, measured and controlled.
“Grant, I asked you to call me alone.””
“I'm not going to exclude my wife from a conversation about her own father.””
Another silence.
“Very well,” Mr. Hayes said.
“Clara, I understand you're upset.””
“You have no idea.””
“I recognize that photograph. That's all I can tell you at this moment.””
“Then tell me the man's name.””
“I will explain what I can tomorrow morning.””
“Why tomorrow?””
“Because there are records I need to review.””
“What records?””
Mr. Hayes exhaled.
“Clara, please don't force me to answer questions before I have the facts.””
I closed my eyes briefly.
“Your father is the man in that photograph, isn't he?””
“I did not say that.””
“You said you recognized him.””
“Yes.””
“Then why is everyone acting as if saying his name will destroy something?””
Grant looked at the phone.
“Dad, enough. We deserve an honest answer.””
His father didn't respond immediately.
When he finally spoke, his voice had lost its usual warmth.
“Grant, bring Clara to my office at nine tomorrow. Come together. I will not discuss this over the telephone.””
The call ended.
Grant lowered his phone.
I stared at him.
“You promised me you wouldn't protect him.””
“And I meant it.””
“Then why are we waiting until tomorrow?””
“Because we don't have the answers yet.””
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I walked through the doors into the chapel courtyard, where a white limousine waited beside the curb.
My wedding day was still unfolding around me. Guests were laughing. The photographer was arranging people for group pictures. Somewhere, a coordinator was probably checking whether the champagne had been poured.
Everything looked perfect.
Everything felt wrong.
My phone vibrated.
A message from my mother appeared on the screen.
Please come alone if you decide to see me. There are things I should have told you years ago.
Beneath it was an address.
I stared at the message until the letters blurred.
Grant came to stand beside me.
“Is that Linda?””
I nodded.
“Where does she want you to go?””
I showed him the screen.
He read the message twice.
Then his expression changed.
“Clara, that address is not her apartment.””
I turned toward him.
“How do you know?””
He hesitated.
“Because I've been there before.””
My stomach dropped.
“Why have you been to my mother's address?””
May you like
Grant looked away.
And in that moment, I understood that tomorrow's meeting with his father might not be the first time my husband's family had encountered the secret inside my locket.
