Chapter Three
I wrung my hands in my lap as we drove down the road to Mom and Dad’s. There was a car behind us with additional bodyguards, as well. Joe had amped up security and changed our route several times. I didn’t think anyone had followed us, yet the worry within the vehicle remained palpable.
Joe pulled up in front of my parents’ place, yet I stayed in my seat looking at this house. It was just past ten, and the upstairs light was on. My parents were watching TV before bed. This was my life, yet it had been an illusion at the same time.
I knew them.
I had no idea about those other people claiming to be my parents.
My parents were kind, loving. No way they’d stolen me from another family.
“Are you ready?”
“No. But I won’t be afraid of the truth, either.”
I stared at the house for a minute longer. After I talked to them, their world would be forever altered—just like mine had been. I wanted to protect them.
“Joe, let me know when it’s clear.”
I saw a shadow pass in front of the window. What had to be asked made me sick.
“I’m reading you loud and clear,” Joe said from the front seat.
I raised an eyebrow, and Garrick answered my silent question. “I’ll have an earpiece to keep in contact with Joe, and vice versa.”
Tonight Joe would hear everything we said. It was unnerving but necessary.
Garrick and I got out of the car and walked to the front door. Even the air felt stifling. More unease settled over me. The sound of my knock startled me. Normally I walked in, but tonight I felt like a stranger to this life.
After a moment, the door creaked open.
Mom was in her robe. “My word, Knoah! Is everything all right? What are you doing here so late? Why didn’t you just walk in?”
It was hard not to rush into her arms. “Can Garrick and I come in? I need to talk to you guys.”
“Of course. Come in.” As we entered, Mom called up the stairs. “Wyatt, Knoah and Garrick are here. Come downstairs.”
“Coming!” Dad yelled.
Mom grabbed my hand. “Oh my, that ring is gorgeous. Congratulations, my sweet girl. We are so excited.” She pulled me to her, but I felt numb inside. My engagement was the last thing on my mind. My entire childhood might be a lie.
“Can we talk?”
When she pulled back, her brow was creased in worry. “Yes, let’s sit in the living room.”
Dad entered the room, his plaid robe cinched at his waist. “What’s going on?” After one look at me, he glanced at Garrick before returning his gaze to me. “What happened, Knoah?” Dad knew me well.
I couldn’t handle it any longer. The sick feeling in the pit of my stomach had only gotten worse. “Am I your child? Your biological child?”
They simultaneously flinched. Mom put her hand on Dad’s arm for support, and Dad turned white as a ghost.
I had my answer.
I hated the answer.
I desperately wanted another answer.
Garrick’s arm tightened around my shoulders, and I focused on the security he provided. “It’s true, isn’t it? I’m not your child.”
With a sob, Mom crumbled against Dad. My heart clenched at the sight, and I closed my eyes. I hated this—all of it. Why? Why did it have to be true?
Dad held Mom and tenderly lowered them to the couch. My lip began to tremble as additional pain seared my chest.
With newly awakened insight, I watched them, studied them. I looked like a combination of the two. I had Dad’s green eyes, Mom’s blond hair, a combination of their jaws. With that thought, the first tear fell.
I’m not their child.
Another tear slipped free.
Dad looked at me as if his world was falling apart, too. “How’d you find out?”
What do I say? How do I tell them without giving away too much information?
Garrick explained in a factual yet sympathetic way. “Knoah was identified by her birthmark. Her biological brother happens to be a colleague of mine and saw Knoah at my office. Do you know who I’m referring to?”
All of that was true, but it was strung together in a misleading way. I preferred that, at least until we understood what had happened.
Mom’s eyes were red as more tears spilled free. Then she stopped. “Brother? Carrie has another child? This isn’t making sense. We have another grandchild?”
“What? Who is Carrie?” I thought back and never remembered my parents mentioning anyone named Carrie.
After looking at me, Dad faced Mom. “It’s time to tell her the truth, Barb.”
I leaned into Garrick for support, hanging on every word.
“We had a daughter named Carrie. She was the light of our world. When she hit her teen years, she was raped.” My eyes grew wide as I took this in, and my heart ached for this Carrie I’d never met. I couldn’t imagine the horror of rape.
Everything muddled together. I gasped. “Am I…Was Carrie pregnant with me after the rape?”
Mom shook her head. “No. Carrie wasn’t pregnant after the rape.”
My brows scrunched together. “What happened?”
A tear ran down Mom’s face. “After that, she was never the same. We did everything we could to help, but nothing did. Every time Carrie went out, she feared he would find her. We never knew who raped Carrie and left her in a ditch for dead. She refused to talk about it when the police weren’t able to close the case.”
Seeing Mom torn apart broke my heart. I moved to her side. Automatically, she grabbed my hands.
“Knoah, sweetie, I want you to know that we love you with our whole hearts. We consider you our child even though you’re our grandchild. I had no idea Carrie had another child. None. I promise you.”
“I love you both, too.” I swallowed hard. Maybe I was somehow related to them. I hoped that was the truth. “How did you get me?”
She took a deep breath. Dad came to my other side. Garrick remained standing a few feet away, watching me. I knew he hated that I had to go through this, and yet there was still more to be revealed.
Dad let out a tired breath as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. I hated seeing him so vulnerable. He pushed his glasses up his nose. “Carrie became more and more troubled. Hung out with the wrong crowd and dropped out of school. One of her friends broke into our home when we were sleeping. Regardless of our pleas, Carrie slipped further away. One day, she just never came home. We searched, but she was eighteen—an adult. In the eyes of the law, nothing could be done. For a year we kept looking, but we had no leads.”
When Dad stopped, Mom continued the story, fidgeting with the belt on her robe the whole time. Worry lines appeared on her face. “One morning, we were eating breakfast and we heard a baby cry. You were in a basket, wrapped in a blanket. On top was a note in Carrie’s handwriting. It said: Take care of my daughter for me. She’s my gift to you—a second chance at being parents. I love you both. Thank you for my wonderful childhood. I’m tired of the memories. I want to be free of it all. I’ll see you in…” Mom’s throat caught on her words. She whispered, “Heaven.”
It sounded like a suicide note. I’d been a gift. My eyes closed. “Did you ever hear from her again?”
“No.”
The pain was palpable.
Mom knew loss like I did. That was why she’d let me cope with Dylan’s death the way I’d believed was best for me. Three years ago, she’d had never-ending patience as I dealt with the grief of losing my first husband. I shook my head to rid myself of the images these thoughts provoked.
“How did you hide Carrie and adopt Knoah?” Garrick asked.
He moved to sit in the chair across from the couch, which gave him a more casual appearance. But he was anything but relaxed.
Dad turned to Garrick and then to me. “Are you okay talking about this right now, Knoah?”
“Garrick and I don’t have secrets.” Mom flinched again. “I don’t mean that maliciously. I mean I just want him to know everything.”
“Your father and I vowed to keep you safe. To give you the chance Carrie never had after the incident. If you knew Carrie was your mother…Well, we thought it would do you more harm than good since you never knew her. We had your best interests at heart.” Now she focused on Garrick. “We paid someone to hide Carrie’s birth and make Knoah ours under a different identity. Our names were Helen and Frank Duvall. We moved from Miami to Cocoa Beach with our new baby. We were almost forty and called her our miracle child.”
I sat, speechless. Mom and Dad had a life before me—a completely different one. My eyes swung to Garrick, and his eyes searched mine, silently asking if I was okay. I shook my head. I was anything but okay.
I pushed myself to keep moving. “I…uh…there’s more to the story.”
Mom and Dad looked at me with red-rimmed eyes.
“I don’t think I’m Carrie’s. I think I was kidnapped.”
They both gasped. Dad covered his mouth as though he was going to be sick. Mom violently shook her head and held her stomach. “No. No. That can’t be. She left the note. You look so much like her. H-how do you know this?”
I had no idea how to respond and glanced to Garrick for help. “My colleague Hastings Monroe is the son of Evelyn and Ricardo Monroe. When the video from the concert went viral, they identified Knoah by her birthmark. I’m having a DNA test done to confirm.”
Mom seemed to deflate. “D-do you believe it’s true?”
Garrick solemnly nodded. “I do. He wouldn’t say so unless it was.”
Dad got up and left the room without a word. I asked Mom, “Did you ever suspect I wasn’t Carrie’s?”
“No. Never.” Then her hands went to her mouth. “Those poor people. I can’t…I just…I love you, Knoah. We love you so much.”
“I love you guys, too. So much.”
This didn’t change anything. They would always be my parents.
Dad came back. “This is one of the few pictures we kept of Carrie. But I wanted you to see why we thought you were our blood. I hate to think that my child robbed someone else of theirs. But we thought you were our grandchild. With the danger Carrie brought into our lives at the end, we had to create new identities. We had to keep you safe in case she had any enemies.”
And this was the reassurance I needed from them. They were good people. The morals they taught me were the ones they lived by. It helped keep my childhood from feeling like a lie.
His hands shook as he held two photographs. It was tough seeing my dad this emotional. I took them and gasped at the resemblance. One was of me, the other Carrie about the same age. We looked like sisters.
I handed off the pictures to Garrick, who studied them. “It’s uncanny.”
It was.
My dad looked stricken. “Dad…” I choked on the word as I stood and almost fell into his arms.
“Oh, sweetie, my dear Knoah. We love you. You will always be Daddy’s little girl,” Dad vowed.