Chapter 7 - The Photograph My Family Never Wanted Me to SeeThat evening, Willa and I baked blueberry muffins. She asked whether Camden liked drawing and whether he had ever visited the aquarium. Then she grew quiet.
“Maybe he was scared at the party too.”
I looked at her. “Why do you think that?” “Because when grown-ups are upset, children think they caused it.”
I pulled her close. “None of this is your fault.” She rested her head against me. “It isn’t his fault either.”
Her kindness humbled me.
At eight o’clock, Callum arrived again. This time, he was not carrying coffee. His expression made my stomach tighten. “Celeste has disappeared.” “What does that mean?” “She left the hotel with Camden. She did not check out, her phone is off, and no scheduled driver collected them.” “Does Everett know?” “Everett is the one who contacted me.”
Callum handed me a sealed envelope. “This was delivered to Everett’s office. It is addressed to you.”
Across the front, someone had written my maiden name in blue ink. Laurel Pembroke.
Inside was an old photograph. Everett stood outside a courthouse, several years younger, beside Celeste. A third woman stood between them, her face partly hidden by windblown hair. At first, I did not recognize her. Then I noticed the pale camel coat and the narrow silver bracelet around her wrist.
My mother had worn that bracelet in nearly every photograph taken during the final year of her life.
My hands began to tremble. A short note was attached to the photograph. Your family knew about Celeste before Everett ever met you.
I read the sentence again. Then I handed the photograph to Callum. The moment he saw it, all color disappeared from his face. “Where did you get this?” he asked. “You tell me.”
May you like
For the first time in my life, my brother looked afraid of answering me. Upstairs, Willa began humming a soft melody from her bedroom. It was an old tune my mother used to sing when Callum and I were children. I had never taught it to Willa.
And as I stood there holding a photograph that connected my husband’s hidden past to my own family, I understood that Everett’s secret might have begun long before our marriage. Perhaps he had not been the only person choosing what I was allowed to know.
