Chapter 13
“What?”
“The photograph was taken inside Evelyn’s house.”
I remembered the framed pictures on the shelves.
“Why would my mother be there?”
“That’s what I was going to find out.”
A nurse entered and told me Clara needed rest.
I wanted answers.
For the first time in my life, however, I looked at my wife and chose not to demand them.
I kissed her forehead.
“Sleep.”
Her eyes closed.
I stepped into the corridor and immediately called Mateo.
“Go back to Evelyn’s.”
“What happened?”
“There’s a photograph of my mother.”
Silence.
Then, “At Evelyn’s house?”
“Find it.”
Mateo returned three hours later.
He wasn’t alone.
Evelyn came with him.
She carried a small photo album beneath her arm.
We sat in a private waiting room.
Without speaking, she opened it.
The photograph had faded around the edges.
My mother stood on Evelyn’s front porch.
Younger.
Healthier.
Her dark hair swept back beneath a scarf.
Beside her was Evelyn.
And between them stood a boy.
Maybe eight years old.
Thin.
Serious eyes.
Dark hair.
I stared at his face.
Something about him felt familiar.
“Who is that?”
Evelyn’s fingers rested against the photograph.
“My son.”
I looked up.
“I didn’t know you had a son.”
“Most people don’t.”
“Where is he?”
“Seattle.”
“What does he have to do with my mother?”
Evelyn looked at me for a long moment.
Then she reached into the album and removed an envelope.
Inside was another photograph.
My mother standing beside the same boy at what appeared to be a school ceremony.
On the back, in my mother’s handwriting, were four words.
For Gabriel. Keep going.
I looked at Evelyn.
“Why was my mother involved with your son?”
Evelyn lowered her gaze.
“Because after Daniel lost his job, your mother quietly paid Gabriel’s school tuition.”
The room went still.
“For how long?”
“Nine years.”
I struggled to understand.
“My mother never told us.”
“She asked us not to.”
“Why?”
“Because she believed the money came from something that should never have happened.”
The pieces began shifting.
Not into place.
Into something larger.
“She knew about Harbor Ridge.”
“Some of it.”
“How?”
Evelyn looked at me.
“Your father told her.”
Mateo sat forward.
“Antonio knew?”
“Eventually.”
“Then why didn’t he stop it?”
“I think he tried.”
“You think?”
Evelyn reached into the album once more.
This time she produced a small brass key.
A white paper label was attached with faded tape.