Chapter 7 - The Photograph That Changed Everything
I stared at the photograph until my eyes began to ache.
Two children stood beside a playground swing.
The girl had chestnut-brown hair and a missing front tooth.
The boy had dark hair and gray eyes.
It was Nathan.
And the little girl was me.
I had forgotten that photograph.
Or perhaps I had never seen it.
My fingers moved across the worn paper.
"Where did you get this?"
Nigel sat in the chair beside my bed.
"Your mother gave it to my father."
"When?"
"After the accident."
"Why?"
He rubbed his face.
"Because our families knew each other better than you realized."
I stared at him.
"Explain."
Nigel lowered his eyes.
"My father, Richard Mercer, worked with your father."
I remembered hearing my father's former business partner mentioned occasionally, but the name had never meant anything to me.
"Your father worked at Whitmore Engineering?"
"Yes."
"My father never told me that."
"Your mother made sure he didn't."
The words felt like a physical blow.
I gripped the photograph.
"Why would she do that?"
Nigel took a deep breath.
"Because your accident happened the same week your father discovered something that could have destroyed my family."
I couldn't speak.
He continued.
"My father was involved in a financial fraud scheme. He had been manipulating company contracts and diverting money into accounts controlled by people outside the business."
"Did my father know?"
"He found out."
I stared at him.
"What does that have to do with the playground?"
Nigel's face tightened.
"My father wanted your father to stay quiet."
A memory flickered.
The angry woman's voice.
The sentence I had almost forgotten.
Make sure she doesn't see it.
I leaned forward.
"Did your father tell you to push me?"
Nigel closed his eyes.
"No. But he told me to distract you."
I felt sick.
"Why?"
"Because you had seen something you weren't supposed to see."
I stared at him.
"What did I see?"
He shook his head.
"I didn't understand everything at the time."
"Then tell me what you do understand."
Nigel looked toward the door.
"My father was meeting someone near the playground. He handed that person a folder. You were nearby."
"Who was the person?"
He hesitated.
"Nigel!"
He finally looked at me.
"It was your mother."
The room went silent.
My mother.
The woman who had held me through countless nights of fear.
The woman who had taught me to read Braille.
The woman who had promised that nobody could ever hurt me again.
I stared at Nigel.
"You're telling me my mother was involved?"
He nodded.
"And Claire, there's something else."
May you like
"What?"
"Your father found out."
