“I need to get off the phone,” I said. “I’m going to Tara’s to tell her what’s going on.”

“Grace is such a terrible driver,” Jenny said. “If I thought she’d do something like this I never would have—”

“I know. I’ve got to get off.”

I hung up the phone and grabbed Sandra to tell her I was sorry, but she was going to have to take over for the next couple of hours. She gave me a frantic look, but she could tell from my face that there was no point arguing with me. In my car, I tried to call Ian before starting the ignition but his voice mail picked up and I imagined he was deep in his golf game by now. I was going to be on my own with this.

Yet when I pulled up in front of Tara’s house, I saw Jenny’s car parked on the street, Jenny waiting for me on the sidewalk in the misty rain. She was hugging herself, shivering, her arms tight across her chest, and I knew I was not going to be on my own with this, after all.



47

Tara


I heard the car door slam and ran to the front window, hoping against hope I’d see Grace walking up the sidewalk. But it was Emerson and Jenny, and as I watched them nearly run up to my front door, all I could think about was that they had horrible news to give me. The scenario was completely different, yet I had that same sickening feeling as I had the day the cop showed up at my classroom door to tell me Sam was dead. I knew the second I saw that young guy in uniform that something terrible had happened. I had the same feeling now.

I pulled open the front door. “What?” I called as they neared the porch. I felt the blood leave my face and the two of them swirled in my vision.

“We think we know where Grace is,” Emerson said as she stepped onto the porch.

“With Cleve?” I asked.

Emerson turned me to face the house. “We think she’s okay, Tara. Let’s sit down someplace, all right? We have a lot to explain to you.”

“What are you talking about?” I allowed her to lead me toward the family room. “Jenny, have you spoken to her? What do you mean, you think she’s okay? Where is she?”

“We’re sure she’s okay,” Emerson said more emphatically. She had her hand on my back and was guiding me toward the sofa. I sank into it. She and Jenny sat shoulder to shoulder on the love seat.

“Is she with Cleve?” I looked at Jenny, who shook her head, then lowered her eyes to her lap as though she couldn’t bear to look at me, which did nothing to ease my mind.

“Listen to me, Tara,” Emerson said. “The other day, I figured out the identity of the baby Noelle stole from the hospital. I think it was Grace.”

I stared at her, not comprehending. “That’s impossible. Grace was never in the hospital, you know that.” I glanced at Jenny. She was still avoiding my eyes, but apparently she knew about Noelle and the baby.

Emerson leaned forward. “Honey, listen,” she said. “I found more information on when Anna Knightly’s baby disappeared. It was around the time Grace was born. Right around the end of August 1994.”

“No,” I said, confused. “You mean 1998, when she stopped being a midwife.”

“It was 1994, and Grace was the only baby Noelle delivered around that time.”

“But Grace was born September first.” I knew I was stubbornly missing the gist of this conversation.

“I know it’s confusing,” Emerson said. “I know it’s unbelievable. But I think Noelle delivered your baby, not Grace, and it was your baby she accidentally dropped. And then she went to the hospital and took Anna Knightly’s baby and brought it back to your house and passed it…her…off as your baby. And that was Grace.”

“That’s insane,” I said.

“There were no other babies Noelle delivered during that time,” Emerson said. “No torn-out pages from the book or anything. I really think it was Grace, Tara. I’m so sorry.”

I ran my hand through my hair, thinking, thinking. I remembered the night Grace was born. The realization that something was wrong. The moments when Noelle was debating whether to call an ambulance before she managed to turn Grace inside me. I remembered that long dark night and the deathlike sleep that had gripped me afterward.

“I held her, though,” I said, frowning. “I nursed her right away.” She’d felt so warm, almost hot, against my skin. I’d loved that warmth. I could still remember it. Then the dreamless sleep. But Sam…had he been asleep, too? Could we have slept long enough for my child to slip through Noelle’s hands? Had we slept long enough for her to rush to the hospital and steal her replacement? As unbelievable as I’d found the whole idea before, now it seemed a hundred times more so.

“You’re saying…the baby I gave birth to died?”

Emerson stood from the love seat and sat down next to me, her arm around me. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I—”

“How does Jenny know all of this?” I asked. Jenny still wouldn’t look at me. She reminded me of Grace today, she was so quiet.

Emerson hesitated. “I talked to Ian about this yesterday, when I…connected the dots, and Jenny overheard.”

“You told Ian? Before you told me?” I pulled away from her, suddenly angry. “I’m the last to know about my own child? How long have you known?”

“I figured it out the night before Suzanne’s party,” Emerson confessed.

“And you didn’t tell me?” I felt like slapping her, I was so furious. I stood. “How could you tell Ian and not me?” I asked. “How dare you do that?”

“I didn’t know how…” Emerson shook her head. “I was afraid of hurting you.”

I couldn’t absorb it all. Just couldn’t. “Where is Grace?” I asked. There was no room in my mind at that moment for the baby I’d lost. A child who didn’t quite exist for me yet. There was only room for the child I loved with all my heart. “Where is she? Why is she—”

“She called Cleve last night after I told her,” Jenny said hoarsely. “She was really upset and she told him she wanted to go to Virginia to try to find her…that woman. He tried to talk her out of it.”

“You should never have talked to Grace about this!” I said.

“I know.” Her eyes were bloodshot and she sank deeper into the love seat.

“Please, Tara,” Emerson pleaded. “Jenny knows she screwed up.”

“How would she know where to find Anna Knightly?” I paced between the sofa and the window.

“The Missing Children’s place, I think,” Jenny said. “In Alexandria.”

Alexandria! I pictured Grace trying to make that long drive by herself in the rain, wondering who she was. Only a tremendous need could make my daughter get behind the wheel of a car for that long. A need I hadn’t been able to fill. “Oh, my poor baby,” I said. I remembered how quiet she’d been the night before in her bedroom. Had she known then? “She has to be so scared and confused,” I said. I thought of how she’d feel when she realized she’d left her phone at home. I could hardly bear to imagine her reaction.

“I feel terrible,” Emerson said.

“I don’t care about your damn feelings right now, Emerson,” I said. “All I care about is finding Grace. You had no right to keep this from me. Something that impacts Grace’s safety. You’ve—” I turned my face away from them. “I’m so furious with both of you! If anything happens to her, I’ll never forgive either of you.” I started for the kitchen and the telephone. “Who do we call?” I asked the air. “How do we find her?”



48

Grace


Washington, D.C.

I stopped at another gas station, bought a cheapy prepaid cell phone and made a deal with myself. If I couldn’t track down Anna Knightly at the Children’s Medical Center in an hour, I’d call that woman at the Missing Children’s Bureau and give her the number. One way or another, I was finding my mother today.

Finally, I saw a sign for the Children’s National Medical Center. I drove into a big underground garage and it was worse than driving on the highway. Cars were pulling out in front me and honking behind me, but I finally managed to get into a space.

At the entrance to the lobby, there was a sign that said you needed to show your ID, so I pulled out my driver’s license. The guard looked at it and, without even glancing at me, asked, “Where’s your supervising adult?”

My hands were shaking and I wondered if I looked guilty. “My mother and sister are inside,” I said.

He started yelling, “Hey! You!” at a guy somewhere behind me, and he must have been more interested in the guy than me, because he just nodded at me to walk through the entrance. I walked fast. I knew I’d lucked out.

The lobby was big and open, and I thought if I were a kid coming here to see a doctor, I’d be comfortable. It was colorful and didn’t feel at all like a hospital and nothing like the emergency room where they’d taken my father. But I wasn’t a kid and I wasn’t there to see a doctor. I wasn’t one hundred percent sure what I was doing there. The lobby was filled with parents and children and doctors and nurses, everyone looking like they had someplace to go except me.

I spotted an information desk on one side of the lobby and walked up to the woman sitting behind it. She was African-American with gray hair and gray glasses and she smiled at me. I tried my best to look eighteen. I was afraid of getting kicked out.

“Hi,” I said. “I have to get an important message to someone. She’s the mother of a patient here. If I write a note can someone take it to her?”

“Patient’s name?” the woman asked. In spite of her smile, she sounded a little annoyed.

“Haley…” Did Haley have the same last name as her mother? “Her mother’s name is Anna Knightly. K-N-I—”

“I know how to spell it. Her daughter’s in the East Wing. Room 416. Give me your note and I’ll ask a volunteer to take it up when they have time. We’re short. Might be a while.” She held out her hand for the note I hadn’t written yet.