“Mom!”
She stepped backward.
Then someone appeared at the far end of the corridor.
A man in a dark suit.
My mother looked toward him.
Fear crossed her face.
She turned and hurried through a side exit.
I chased after her.
By the time I reached the parking area, she was gone.
A dark car was pulling away.
I ran after it, shouting.
“Stop!”
The car disappeared around the corner.
I stood in the middle of the driveway, struggling to breathe.
Three years.
For three years, I’d visited a grave.
For three years, I’d blamed myself for not being there when she died.
And now I’d seen her.
Alive.
“Daniel!”
Vanessa’s voice came from behind me.
I turned.
She was standing beneath the entrance canopy, holding the skirt of her wedding dress.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“I saw her.”
“Who?”
“My mother.”
Vanessa stopped moving.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then she shook her head.
“Daniel, your mother is dead.”
“I know what I saw.”
“You’re upset. That note has confused you.”
“Then explain it.”
“Explain what?”
“The handwriting. The pendant. The date.”
She swallowed.
“Someone must have forged it.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why did you want me to give it to you?”
Her expression hardened.
“Because I didn’t want you humiliating yourself in front of everyone.”
I stared at her.
“Humiliating myself?”
“You’re chasing strangers through a parking lot on our wedding day!”
I stepped closer.
“Vanessa, look me in the eyes.”
She hesitated.
“Did you know my mother was alive?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
I remembered something.
The day my mother supposedly died, Vanessa had been the one who called me.
She’d told me there had been an accident.
She’d said the hospital had already made arrangements.
When I asked to see my mother’s body, Vanessa told me it would be better to remember her as she had been.
I had been too devastated to argue.
And Vanessa had handled everything.
The funeral.
The paperwork.
Even the small private ceremony.
At the time, I’d believed she was protecting me.
Now I wasn’t so sure.
“Why didn’t you let me see her?” I asked.
Vanessa blinked.
“What?”
“After the accident. Why didn’t you let me see my mother?”
“Daniel, we’ve discussed this.”
“Answer me.”
“Because you were falling apart!”
Her voice cracked.
“I was trying to help you.”
I looked at the wedding ring on her finger.
Only an hour earlier, I’d placed it there while promising to love and trust her.
Now I couldn’t recognize the woman standing in front of me.
Behind us, the reception doors opened.
Lily emerged with an older woman who appeared to be her grandmother.
The little girl looked frightened.
“Mr. Daniel?”
I crouched beside her.
“Yes?”
“The lady said you should look behind the picture.”
I froze.
“What?”
“In the necklace. She said if you didn’t understand the letter, look behind the picture.”
I opened the pendant again.
The photograph was tucked beneath a narrow metal rim.
Carefully, I lifted one corner.
Behind it was a second piece of paper.
Much smaller.
Only four words were written on it.
Ask her about Rosewood.
I looked up.
Vanessa had seen the words.
She staggered backward.
And whispered something that changed everything.
“She wasn’t supposed to remember.”
“What did you just say?”
Vanessa shook her head.
“Nothing.”
“You said she wasn’t supposed to remember.”
“Daniel, you’re twisting my words.”
“Who’s Rosewood?”
She looked away.
“Vanessa.”
“It’s a place.”
“What kind of place?”
Her lips pressed together.
I took out my phone.
She reached for my arm.
“Please don’t.”
I stepped away.
“Why?”
“Because you don’t understand what you’re getting into.”
For the first time since I’d met her, Vanessa looked afraid of something other than losing control.
“Then tell me.”
She covered her face.
“I can’t.”
That answer was enough.
I walked back into the reception hall.
The guests were whispering.
My best man, Michael, hurried toward me.
“Daniel, what’s going on?”
“I need your help.”
He glanced toward Vanessa.
“With what?”
“Finding my mother.”
Michael stared.
“Your mother?”
“She’s alive.”
His expression changed from confusion to alarm.
I showed him the pendant.
Then the note.
He read it silently.
“Daniel…”
“I saw her, Mike.”
He looked at me for a long moment.
Then he nodded.
“Okay. What do you need?”
“Find out what Rosewood is.”
While Michael searched on his phone, I called the number listed on my mother’s old death certificate.
The hospital had closed its records department for the evening.
I left a message requesting copies of everything connected to her death.
Then Michael turned his phone toward me.
“There’s a place called Rosewood Care Center. About forty minutes from here.”
I looked at the screen.
A private residential facility.
