“Because every memory she’s getting seems connected to that house.”
I stared.
“How do you know so much?”
He sighed.
“My sister had traumatic memory loss after an accident.”
“I told Claire that when she mentioned the dreams.”
“That’s why she kept talking to me.”
Not romance.
Recognition.
I felt stupid.
Not relieved.
Because what remained sounded worse.
I drove to Claire’s parents’ house.
Margaret and Robert lived forty minutes away.
I had met them once.
Our wedding.
They were polite.
Distant.
Claire never invited them into our life afterward.
When I asked why, she always said:
“We had problems after high school.”
Nothing more.
Her car was not in their driveway.
I nearly continued.
Then saw it parked across the street.
At another house.
My stomach tightened.
I knocked on Margaret and Robert’s door.
No answer.
Knocked harder.
Robert opened.
Saw me.
Went pale.
“Sam.”
“Where’s Claire?”
He looked behind him.
“Not here.”
I pushed past before good judgment arrived.
The living room was quiet.
Lily’s bassinet sat near the sofa.
My daughter.
Sleeping.
I turned.
“Why is my baby here?”
Margaret appeared.
Eyes swollen.
“Sam.”
“Where is Claire?”
“She went across the street.”
I looked toward the window.
The house where her car sat.
“Why?”
Neither answered.
Then I noticed photographs.
Not family portraits.
Recent pictures on a side table.
A teenage girl.
Blonde.
Maybe sixteen.
In one image:
Green and hazel eyes.
My chest stopped.
I picked up the photo.
“Who is this?”
Margaret started crying.
Robert sat.
No answer.
I looked at both.
“Does Claire have a sister?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Margaret whispered:
“Emma.”
“Who is Emma?”
The front door opened behind me.
Claire rushed inside.
Breathless.
Saw me.
Stopped.
“Sam.”
I held the photograph.
“Who is she?”
Claire looked at her parents.
Then at Lily.
Then closed her eyes.
Margaret said:
“Emma is Claire’s daughter.”
Nothing happened in my brain for several seconds.
The sentence had words.
No meaning.
I looked at Claire.
“What?”
She started crying.
“I didn’t know.”
I almost laughed.
Not because funny.
Because impossible.
“You have a daughter you didn’t know about?”
Margaret stood.
“Let me explain.”
Claire screamed:
“No.”
The force shocked all of us.
“You have explained my life enough.”
Silence.
I looked at her.
