Chapter 2 - THE CHILD I NEVER KNEW
I stared at my mother.
“Where is she?”
Mom looked confused.
“Who?”
“Camilla.”
Her lips parted.
I stepped closer.
“Where is Camilla now?”
“She lives in Miami.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
My voice sounded unfamiliar even to me.
“If she was pregnant, where is my child?”
My aunt Laura stood slowly.
“Lucas, sit down.”
“I don’t want to sit down.”
“You need to hear everything before you do something you’ll regret.”
I laughed bitterly.
“I already lost five years.”
Nobody answered.
That silence was answer enough.
I grabbed my phone.
“I’m calling her.”
Mom moved quickly.
“No.”
I stared at her.
“You don't get to tell me no anymore.”
I dialed the number I still had saved from years ago.
Camilla.
The phone rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then voicemail.
I hung up.
I tried again.
Nothing.
Laura watched me.
“She won't answer.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she knew you would eventually come looking.”
That sentence stopped me.
“What does that mean?”
Laura looked toward my mother.
“She made me promise something.”
“What?”
“To tell you the truth if you ever came back.”
My mother closed her eyes.
“You had no right.”
Laura shook her head.
“You lost the right to keep deciding what Lucas should know five years ago.”
I looked at my mother.
“Where was Camilla living then?”
Mom finally answered.
“Little Havana.”
“Did she have the baby there?”
“I don't know.”
“You don't know?”
“She never told me.”
“But you knew she was pregnant.”
“Yes.”
I took a step backward.
The room suddenly felt too small.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Mom began crying.
“I thought you were finally going to be free.”
“Free?”
“You were miserable.”
“So you decided my child would be better off without me?”
“That isn't what I thought.”
“Then what did you think?”
She looked at the floor.
“I thought Camilla was trying to hold onto you.”
I stared at her.
“She was pregnant with my child.”
“I didn't know that.”
“You knew enough.”
Laura stepped between us.
“Your mother made a terrible decision.”
Mom looked at her.
“I was protecting him.”
Laura's expression hardened.
“No. You were protecting the life you wanted him to have.”
Before I could answer, footsteps sounded on the staircase.
Charlotte appeared.
She wore a simple white blouse and jeans.
She smiled at first.
Then she saw my face.
“What happened?”
I looked directly at her.
“How much do you know?”
Her smile disappeared.
“About what?”
“My child.”
Charlotte went completely still.
That was all the answer I needed.
She looked at my mother.
Then at Laura.
Then back at me.
“I didn't know how to tell you.”
My stomach dropped.
“You knew.”
“I found out after we got engaged.”
“Who told you?”
Charlotte swallowed.
“Your mother.”
I felt something inside me break.
“You knew I might have a child.”
“Yes.”
“And you still agreed to marry me?”
“I love you.”
“That isn't an answer.”
She stepped closer.
“I didn't know if there was actually a child.”
“You knew enough to ask questions.”
“I did.”
“What questions?”
She looked down.
“Your mother told me Camilla had been pregnant, but she said the baby might not have survived.”
I turned toward Mom.
“Did you tell her that?”
Mom nodded.
“I didn't know.”
“But you let her believe it.”
Mom began crying harder.
Charlotte whispered, “I thought it was something from your past that had been resolved.”
“Resolved?”
I almost laughed.
“Apparently my family has a very strange definition of that word.”
Laura picked up her purse.
“I'll leave.”
“No.”
I looked at her.
“Please don't.”
She nodded.
“I stayed away for five years because your mother asked me to.”
“Why?”
Laura hesitated.
Then she reached into her purse.
She pulled out a small envelope.
It was old.
The edges were worn.
My name was written across the front.
Lucas.
My heart stopped.
“What's that?”
Laura placed it on the table.
“Camilla gave it to me five years ago.”
I stared at it.
“Why didn't you give it to me?”
“Your mother told me not to.”
My hands shook as I picked it up.
There was no stamp.
No address.
Just my name.
I opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
A newborn baby wrapped in a pale yellow blanket.
On the back were four words.
She has your eyes.
I couldn't breathe.
There was also a small hospital bracelet.
I turned it over.
The name printed on it was barely visible.
EMILIA RIVERA.
I looked at Laura.
“Emilia?”
Laura nodded.
“Camilla named her Emilia.”
My knees weakened.
I sat down.
“She had a daughter.”
“Yes.”
“My daughter.”
“Yes.”
I stared at the photograph.
The baby couldn't have been more than a few days old.
Tiny fingers.
Dark hair.
A face that somehow already looked familiar.
I touched the photograph with one finger.
“Where is she?”
Laura's eyes filled with tears.
“That's the part I never understood.”
“What?”
“Camilla refused to tell me.”
“Why?”
“She said you would find out when the time was right.”
“That was five years ago.”
Laura nodded.
“I know.”
I looked at the photograph again.
Then something caught my attention.
In the corner was the edge of a second object.
A silver bracelet.
I recognized it.
It had belonged to Camilla's grandmother.
Camilla had worn it on our wedding day.
I looked at Laura.
“Why would she put this in the picture?”
Laura didn't answer.
Instead, she said something that made the room go cold.
“Because Emilia wasn't the only thing Camilla was trying to protect.”
I looked up.
“What else?”
Laura shook her head.
“You need to ask Camilla.”
I stood.
“Where is she?”
Laura hesitated.
Then she finally gave me an address.
A small apartment near Doral.
I grabbed my keys.
Charlotte stood in front of me.
“Lucas.”
I stopped.
“I know you're angry.”
“You should be.”
“I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“That if you found out, you'd leave me.”
I looked at her.
“You were willing to marry me while knowing there might be a child somewhere?”
Tears filled her eyes.
“I didn't know where she was.”
“But you knew she existed.”
“Yes.”
I walked past her.
At the door, my mother called my name.
I turned.
She looked smaller than she had that morning.
“Lucas.”
“What?”
“I loved you.”
“I know.”
“And I thought I was doing the right thing.”
I looked at the photograph in my hand.
“You don't get to decide what is right for someone else's child.”
Then I left.
Thirty minutes later, I was standing outside Camilla's apartment.
I knocked.
Nothing.
I knocked again.
Still nothing.
I was about to leave when I noticed something taped beneath the apartment number.
A small photograph.
A little girl.
She was about four years old.
Dark hair.
Brown eyes.
A missing front tooth.
She was sitting on a park bench holding a stuffed rabbit.
I turned the photograph over.
There was one sentence.
If Lucas comes, tell him Emilia is safe.
My heart pounded.
Then I heard footsteps behind the door.
The lock turned.
The door opened two inches.
Camilla looked through the gap.
She saw the photograph in my hand.
Her face changed completely.
“Who gave you that?”
“Laura.”
Camilla closed her eyes.
I stepped closer.
“Camilla, I know.”
Her voice trembled.
“Know what?”
“That I have a daughter.”
She opened the door.
Then whispered the words that changed everything.
“Yes.”
A pause.
“She is yours.”
I swallowed.
“Where is she?”
Camilla looked toward the hallway.
Then back at me.
“She was supposed to be here.”
“Where is she now?”
May you like
Camilla's eyes filled with fear.
“She was taken from me three days ago.”
