PART 2 Three days before I was supposed to return to Boston, I walked into my family estate 3009 - Puretale

She sat near the window in her bedroom, a blanket across her knees and a cup of tea cooling on the table. The illness had made her thinner, but there was still something formidable about her. Even in weakness, Catherine possessed the kind of dignity that made people straighten their backs when she looked at them.

Isaac stood in the doorway with the photograph in his hand.

"Mother, I need you to tell me something."

She studied his face.

"That sounds serious."

"It is."

He placed the photograph on the table.

Catherine glanced down.

The color drained from her cheeks.

For several seconds, she didn't move. Then her fingers trembled against the edge of the photograph, and she pressed her lips together as though trying to keep a sound from escaping.

"Where did you get this?"

"Harbor House. It was hidden beneath the floor."

She closed her eyes.

Isaac had seen his mother frightened before. He had seen her in hospital beds, after terrible diagnoses, during nights when the pain made her whisper prayers she probably believed no one could hear.

But this was different.

This was recognition.

"Who is Evelyn?" he asked.

Catherine opened her eyes.

"Your sister."

The room seemed to tilt.

Isaac grabbed the back of a chair.

"You're telling me I had a sister?"

"You had a sister," Catherine whispered. "Her name was Evelyn Rose Mercer."

"Had?"

Catherine stared at the photograph.

"I was told she died."

"By whom?"

She didn't answer immediately.

"My husband."

Isaac felt anger rise so quickly that it frightened him.

"My father told you your daughter was dead, and you never told me she existed?"

"I believed she was dead."

"That isn't an answer."

"No." Her voice cracked. "It isn't."

Catherine reached for her tea, but her hand shook too badly to lift the cup. Isaac moved instinctively to help her, then stopped, unsure whether she would accept his touch.

She noticed.

"I am still your mother," she said quietly. "You can help me hold a cup without believing I'm made of glass."

He handed it to her.

She took a small sip.

"Evelyn was born three years before you," Catherine continued. "She was a beautiful child. She had your father's eyes and a temper that could frighten a room full of adults."

Despite himself, Isaac almost smiled.

"She sounds familiar."

"She was curious about everything. She followed Robert everywhere. When he worked late, she'd sit outside his study with a book, waiting for him to finish."

Catherine's gaze drifted toward the window.

"Then, one night, everything changed."

It had happened during an autumn storm. Evelyn had been staying with a nurse while Catherine underwent surgery. When Catherine returned home, Robert told her the child had developed a sudden fever.

By morning, he said, she was gone.

"There was no funeral," Isaac said.

"Your father told me the hospital had handled the arrangements because of the circumstances. I was sick, heavily medicated, and barely able to stand. He said I would only hurt myself if I demanded details."

"And you believed him?"

Catherine's eyes filled with tears.

"I had just lost a child. I couldn't bear to imagine he was lying, so I accepted what he told me."

Isaac looked down at the photograph again.

"What circumstances?"

Catherine's silence answered him before her words did.

"Your father was involved in something dangerous. I knew that much. There were men who visited the house late at night. Charles was always there, telling me it was business. Robert promised me it would end."

She pressed a hand against her chest.

"The week Evelyn disappeared, your father came home with blood on his shirt. He said he'd been in an accident. Two days later, he told me our daughter was dead."

Isaac felt sick.

"And Charles?"

"He told me not to ask questions. He said the family would be destroyed if I did."

"Did you believe him, too?"

"I was a grieving mother surrounded by men who insisted they were protecting me." Her voice hardened. "I believed what I needed to believe to survive."

For the first time, Isaac understood that his mother had not simply lived beside his father's secrets.

She had been trapped inside them.

He sat across from her.

"Why didn't you tell me any of this when Father died?"

"Because I found something in his study. A note. It said that if I ever tried to uncover what happened to Evelyn, the people responsible would come for you next."

Catherine reached beneath the blanket and withdrew a small envelope.

"I kept it."

Isaac took the envelope.

Inside was a single line, written in Robert's hand.

If Evelyn is alive, Charles will know before we do.

Isaac read it several times.

Then he looked at his mother.

"Did you ever ask Charles if Evelyn was alive?"

"Once."

"When?"

"The night before Robert died."

Catherine's expression changed, and for a moment she seemed to be watching something unfold in the room that Isaac couldn't see.

"Charles came to the house after midnight. Your father was furious. They argued in the study. I heard Robert say, 'You promised me she'd be safe.'"

She swallowed.

"Charles replied, 'She is safe as long as you keep your mouth shut.'"

Isaac rose so abruptly that the chair scraped across the floor.

"And you said nothing?"

"I was terrified."

"So was I!" he shouted.

The words echoed through the bedroom.

Catherine flinched.

Isaac immediately regretted them, but the anger was already pouring out.

"I spent my entire life believing I was the only child in this family. I watched you grow ill, watched you grieve Father, and thought I understood what we'd lost. All this time, my sister might have been alive somewhere, and no one thought I deserved to know?"

Catherine began to cry.

"I thought I was protecting you."

He turned away, fighting the urge to strike something.

Megan's voice came back to him: You don't have to face it alone.

But the woman standing before him was his mother, and he didn't know how to be angry with her without feeling as though he were betraying her.

Finally, Catherine reached for his wrist.

"Isaac, look at me."

He did.

"If Evelyn is alive, you must find her. But promise me something first."

"What?"

"Don't become your father trying to save her. Don't become Charles trying to control her. Find your sister, and let her decide what she wants from this family."

Isaac looked at her hand around his wrist.

Then he nodded.

"I promise."

An hour later, Megan arrived with a folder of documents she'd gathered from Harbor House. She found Isaac in the library, standing beside the fireplace, the photograph resting in his palm.

He told her everything.

She listened without interrupting. When he finished, she sat beside him.

"Do you think Evelyn knows who she is?"

"I don't know."

"Do you think she wants to meet you?"

"I don't know that, either."

Megan took his hand.

"Then those are the questions you need to answer. Not the ones your uncle wants you to ask."

Isaac turned toward her.

"Daniel Cross wants me to meet him tomorrow. He's the only lead we have."

"Where?"

"The old courthouse on Beacon Street."

Megan considered this.

"Then you shouldn't go alone."

"He specifically told me to."

"That doesn't make it a good idea."

He almost smiled.

"You always did have a problem with my decision-making."

"I have a problem with decisions made by men who think danger is a sign they're doing something important."

She squeezed his hand.

"Go meet him. But let me arrange someone nearby, just in case."

Isaac wanted to argue.

Instead, he nodded.

That night, Catherine fell asleep with the photograph of Evelyn beside her bed.

Isaac stood in the doorway for a long time, watching his mother breathe.

Then his phone vibrated.

An unknown number.

A photograph appeared on the screen.

It showed a woman standing outside a small bookstore, her dark hair tucked beneath a wool hat. She was older than the little girl in Robert's photograph, of course, but the eyes were unmistakable.

Isaac's eyes.

Beneath the picture was a message.

Stop looking for Evelyn Mercer.

A second message arrived.

The woman you're searching for has a different name now.

Then a third.

And if you love your mother, you'll leave her buried.

Isaac stared at the screen.

For the first time in years, he felt something more frightening than anger.

Hope.

Because whoever had sent those messages had just confirmed the one thing his family had tried to hide.