Chapter 3 - The Photograph That Should Never Have Existed
For several seconds, nobody moved.
I stared at the photograph.
Mark.
A woman named Elaine.
And a baby identified as Jenna.
My mind refused to accept what my eyes were seeing.
"No," I whispered.
Arthur looked at me.
"Carol—"
"No. Jenna is twenty-seven. Daniel is twenty-nine. Mark would have been married to me when this picture was taken."
Arthur nodded.
"Yes."
I felt sick.
Daniel stood beside the desk, his face drained of color.
"Are you telling me I married my sister?"
Arthur raised a hand.
"I'm telling you that your grandfather suspected a biological connection. He never obtained proof."
Daniel stared at him.
"Why didn't he tell us?"
"Because he didn't know whether the photograph was accurately labeled."
I picked it up.
The baby had dark hair.
Elaine was smiling.
Mark stood beside her with one arm around her shoulders.
He looked comfortable.
Familiar.
Like a husband posing with his wife and child.
I remembered that year.
1999.
Daniel had been two.
Mark had traveled frequently for work.
He had spent nearly four months in Boston overseeing what he called a corporate restructuring project.
I had stayed home with our toddler, exhausted and lonely.
He'd called every evening.
He'd told me he missed us.
And now I was looking at a photograph taken during that same period.
"Who was Elaine?" I asked.
Arthur opened another folder.
"Elaine Whitmore. Robert's wife."
I looked at him.
"Jenna's mother?"
"Yes."
My hands began trembling again.
Jenna had told us her mother died when she was sixteen.
She'd said both parents were gone.
But Arthur's documents suggested her family history was far more complicated.
Daniel sat down.
He looked physically ill.
"I need to know."
Arthur nodded.
"Then you need reliable evidence. A photograph isn't enough."
I looked at my son.
He was staring at his wedding ring.
Slowly, he pulled it off.
He placed it on Arthur's desk.
"I don't care what the truth is anymore," he whispered. "I just need it to stop changing."
Arthur leaned forward.
"Daniel, listen carefully. Nothing we've shown you proves Jenna is biologically related to you. Don't make that assumption."
My son nodded without looking up.
Then he asked, "Can we find Elaine?"
Arthur hesitated.
"That may be possible."
I looked at him sharply.
"What do you mean?"
"Your father believed Elaine was still alive when he began investigating."
"But Jenna told us she died."
Arthur opened a file.
"According to these records, Elaine Whitmore moved to Vermont twelve years ago. Your father located an address but never managed to speak with her."
I felt another wave of disbelief.
How many lies had entered our family through one smiling young woman?
How many had begun with Mark?
And how many had been waiting in silence for years?
Daniel stood.
"I'm going to find Jenna."
I grabbed his arm.
"Not alone."
"Mom—"
"Please. Not while you're this upset."
He looked at me.
His eyes were red.
Then he nodded.
"Okay."
We left Arthur's office with copies of the documents.
Before we reached the parking lot, my phone rang.
Jenna.
I almost ignored it.
Then I answered.
"Carol?"
Her voice sounded exhausted.
"Where's Daniel?"
"Somewhere you can't hurt him."
She began crying.
"Please, I need to explain."
"Then start with Elaine Whitmore."
The crying stopped.
Silence.
I heard her breathing.
Then she whispered, "Where did you hear that name?"
"My father left us a photograph."
Another silence.
"What photograph?"
"Your mother holding you as a baby. Mark standing beside her."
Jenna made a small sound.
Then she said, "Oh, God."
My stomach dropped.
"You knew."
"No."
"Don't lie to me."
"Carol, I knew there was a photograph. I didn't know your father had it."
I gripped the phone.
"Is Mark your father?"
"No!"
Her answer came immediately.
Too quickly, perhaps.
Or perhaps because the accusation genuinely horrified her.
"Then why is he in the picture?"
Jenna began crying again.
"Because my father worked with him."
"Your father, Robert?"
"Yes."
"Then why did you tell us Robert died?"
"He did die."
"When?"
"Eleven years ago."
Arthur's information didn't contradict that.
But there were still too many questions.
"Where is your mother?"
Jenna went silent.
"Jenna?"
"I don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know?"
"She disappeared after Dad died."
I closed my eyes.
"Jenna, I need the truth."
"You won't believe me."
"Try."
She took a shaky breath.
"Mark contacted me before I met Daniel."
I felt the air leave my lungs.
"What?"
"Six months before."
I turned toward Daniel.
He was watching me.
I put the call on speaker.
Jenna continued.
"He told me he knew my father. He said Robert had left something behind that belonged to me."
"What?"
"Money."
Daniel stepped closer.
"How much money?"
Jenna gasped.
"Daniel?"
"Answer the question."
She began crying.
"Two million dollars."
I stared at the phone.
Daniel's voice was cold.
"And you married me because of it?"
"No."
"Then why?"
"Because I loved you."
He laughed bitterly.
"Funny way of showing it."
"Daniel, please."
He looked at me.
Then back at the phone.
"Did you know who I was when we first met?"
Silence.
And that silence answered the question before Jenna did.
"Yes," she whispered.
Daniel closed his eyes.
I watched my son struggle to remain standing.
Then he asked, "Was any of it real?"
Jenna sobbed.
"Yes."
He shook his head.
"You knew who my father was before we even had our first date."
"Yes."
"And you never told me."
"No."
He looked toward the courthouse across the street.
Then he said quietly, "I want a divorce."
Jenna began pleading.
But Daniel ended the call.
For a long moment, he stood motionless.
Then he looked at me.
"Mom, I don't know who I married."
I put my arm around him.
"Neither do I."
That afternoon, I returned home to collect clothes and important documents.
Mark's car was in the driveway.
I nearly turned around.
But then I remembered my father's letter.
I remembered the photograph.
And I remembered thirty-one years of believing I was safe in a house where someone had been lying to me.
I walked inside.
Mark was waiting in the kitchen.
He looked exhausted.
"Carol."
I set my purse down.
"Is Jenna your daughter?"
His expression changed.
For the first time, he seemed genuinely shocked.
"What?"
I took out the photograph.
His face went pale.
"Where did you get that?"
"Answer me."
He stared at the picture.
Then he slowly sat down.
"No," he said.
"How can you be sure?"
"Because Elaine and I never had that kind of relationship."
"Then explain the photograph."
He looked at me.
"Robert asked me to pose with them."
I stared at him.
"Why?"
Mark swallowed.
"Because he wanted someone to believe Jenna was mine."
I felt my heart pounding.
"Who?"
He looked toward the window.
May you like
Then whispered:
"The people he stole the money from."
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