ONLY IF SOPHIE STILL HASN’T TOLD HER.
Typical Thomas.
Dead and still irritated.
I opened it.
One sentence:
Ellie, the secret is not that Jonah exists. The secret is why Sophie believed he had to stay hidden.
My anger paused.
Below it:
Listen before you judge her. Then judge me separately. I earned that.
I hated how well that sounded like him.
I pressed play on the recorder.
Thomas’s voice filled the storage room.
Weak.
Breathless.
Recorded shortly before he died.
“Hello, Ellie.”
I started crying immediately.
“Damn you.”
The recording continued.
“If you found this, I failed to fix something before time fixed me.”
That was Thomas.
Even then.
SOPHIE ARRIVED TWENTY MINUTES LATER
She looked exhausted.
Older than I remembered.
She stopped several feet away.
“You opened it.”
“Yes.”
She looked at the photographs scattered around me.
“I wanted to tell you.”
“Eleven years is an unusually long warm-up.”
“I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do.”
She flinched.
Good.
I wanted something to hurt besides me.
Then a boy appeared behind her.
Thirteen.
Same glasses as the photographs.
He looked from Sophie to me.
“Mom?”
Sophie turned.
“I told you to wait upstairs.”
“You were gone too long.”
Then he looked at me.
“Are you Eleanor?”
My heart stopped.
Not:
Who are you?
He knew me.
“Yes.”
He smiled nervously.
“Grandpa talked about you.”
That nearly destroyed me.
Thomas had told his hidden grandson about me.
While telling me nothing about him.
JONAH SAT BESIDE ME ON THE FLOOR
Sophie tried to stop him.
I didn’t.
He pointed toward one photograph.
“That was my tenth birthday.”
Another.
“Grandpa hated that fishing boat.”
“Thomas hated all boats.”
Jonah laughed.
“He said he liked them.”
“He lied.”
The irony hit all three of us.
Nobody laughed afterward.
I looked at Sophie.
“Why?”
She sat opposite me.
Then told me about Westhaven thirteen years earlier.
Jonah’s father was a man named Caleb Mercer.
Charming.
Successful.
Controlling.
Sophie became pregnant after a short relationship.
By the time Jonah was born, Caleb’s behavior had become frightening.
He monitored her accounts.
Tracked her phone.
Threatened custody constantly.
After Sophie left, there was a vicious legal fight.
Caleb’s family had money.
Connections.
Private investigators.
Thomas helped Sophie financially.
Eventually she obtained primary custody.
But Caleb continued appearing.
School.
Apartment.
Work.
Then when Jonah was two, Sophie moved within Westhaven and restricted nearly everyone who knew the address.
Including me.
“Why me?”
I asked.
She looked ashamed.
“Because I didn’t trust you.”
That hurt.
“Why?”
“You were kind.”
“That is usually considered a positive quality.”
“I thought if Caleb contacted you with some convincing story, you might accidentally tell him something.”
I stared at her.
“You thought I was stupid.”
“No.”
“I think that is exactly what you’re saying.”
“I thought you didn’t understand how dangerous he was.”
“And Thomas agreed?”
“At first.”
There it was.
At first.
“What changed?”
“Dad wanted to tell you after the custody restrictions ended.”
“When was that?”
“Seven years ago.”
My anger shifted toward Thomas.
“And?”
“He kept postponing.”
“Why?”
Sophie laughed bitterly.
“Because by then the secret had become about more than safety.”
I understood instantly.
Shame.
Every year of silence made the next confession harder.
