Chapter 1 - The Name From The Past
The name that came out of my mother's mouth was not Lily at all.
She looked deeply into my crying baby's eyes and softly whispered the name Charlotte.
I completely froze in the entryway of my childhood home as a cold sweat broke out across my neck.
Charlotte was my older sister who had passed away from a fever two years before I was even born.
My mother had never spoken that name aloud in my entire thirty years of life.
Lily continued to scream while her tiny face turned a deep shade of purple from the distress.
I took a slow step forward and held out both of my hands to take my child.
I tried to keep my voice perfectly steady so I would not frighten her any further.
I told my mother that it was time for Lily to come home and take her afternoon nap.
My mother clutched the baby tighter to her chest and took a sudden step backward.
She looked at me with eyes that were entirely devoid of any maternal recognition or warmth.
She told me that I was a stranger and that I was trying to steal her firstborn daughter.
I realized with horrifying clarity that this was not just a simple memory lapse or an age-related mistake.
Emma grabbed the edge of my coat and hid behind my legs while trembling violently.
I lunged forward to grab Lily from my mother's arms before she could drop her.
My mother reacted with a speed and aggression I had not seen from her in over a decade.
She shoved me backward with her free hand and slammed the heavy oak front door shut.
The metallic click of the deadbolt locking echoed loudly through the narrow hallway.
I scrambled to my feet and reached for the brass handle to unlock it from the inside.
My mother swiftly pulled the silver key from the lock and dropped it straight down the heating vent on the floor.
We were entirely trapped inside the house with a woman who no longer knew who we were.
I reached into my pocket to grab my cell phone so I could call my husband.
Before I could dial his number, Emma tugged on my sleeve and handed me a folded piece of paper.
She whispered that she had pulled it out of Grandma's coat pocket when the suitcase fell.
I unfolded the thick parchment and stared at the bold ink printed across the top.
It was not a travel consent form at all.
It was a pair of one-way international flight tickets departing in exactly three hours.
The first ticket was printed in my mother's maiden name.
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The second ticket was completely unexpected and made the blood in my veins run completely cold.
The second passenger listed on the booking was my husband, Tom.
