I didn't move.
I couldn't.
My fingers tightened around the silver gift box until its edges pressed into my palm.
For twenty years, I had believed that my biological mother abandoned us.
For twenty years, I had accepted that explanation without knowing anything more.
Now Gwendolyn was laughing about a secret she had apparently kept from us.
I wanted to walk into the kitchen.
I wanted to demand an explanation.
But something stopped me.
I needed to hear the rest.
Grandma Opal spoke again.
"You're certain they never found anything?"
Gwendolyn made a small sound of amusement.
"Why would they? They never had anything to find."
I felt my heartbeat in my throat.
"What about Grant?" Grandma Opal asked.
"He was always suspicious."
I nearly dropped the flowers.
Grant.
My brother's name.
Gwendolyn continued.
"That boy has always been difficult. He asks too many questions."
Grandma Opal laughed softly.
"And Wesley?"
"Wesley believes whatever makes everyone comfortable."
I stared at the kitchen doorway.
That sentence hurt more than I expected.
She knew exactly how I behaved.
She knew I spent years trying to avoid upsetting her.
And apparently, she had mistaken that for stupidity.
Grandma Opal said something I couldn't hear.
Then Gwendolyn answered.
"Don't worry. Neither of them will ever know unless someone tells them."
Someone tells them.
I looked down at the lilies.
The ribbon was twisted around my fingers.
I suddenly remembered all the times Gwendolyn had mentioned our biological mother.
She always used the same words.
She left.
She didn't want you.
She never came back.
I had never asked for details because the subject always ended in an argument.
Now I wondered why.
Why had she been so determined to make us believe that story?
What was she protecting?
I took one quiet step closer.
The floor made a small creaking sound.
Both women stopped talking.
I froze.
"Did you hear that?" Grandma Opal asked.
Gwendolyn waited.
Then she answered.
"Probably the house settling."
I stood perfectly still.
My shoes were near the front door.
My jacket was still on.
I had no idea how long I had been standing there.
A few seconds later, Grandma Opal began speaking again.
"Sometimes I wonder whether this has gone on too long."
Gwendolyn's voice became sharper.
"Don't start that again."
"I'm only saying that they're adults now."
"And?"
"They have a right to know."
I felt something shift inside me.
A right to know.
About what?
Gwendolyn lowered her voice.
"You promised you wouldn't bring this up."
"I remember what I promised."
"Then keep remembering it."
There was a silence.
I looked toward the kitchen again.
I could see part of the table and the edge of a chair.
I wanted to see their faces.
I wanted to understand what kind of secret could make two people speak about their own family as if they were discussing something buried in the garden.
Then Grandma Opal said something that made my knees feel weak.
"Raymond would never have agreed with what you did."
Raymond.
My father.
The only person in that house who had ever made me feel wanted.
Gwendolyn answered almost immediately.
"Raymond is gone."
"That doesn't make it right."
"He's been gone for twenty years, Mother. Nobody can ask him anything now."
I pressed my shoulder against the wall.
There was a terrible feeling in my chest.
I had spent years thinking Raymond was the one person who knew everything about our adoption.
He had always been gentle when we asked questions.
He never spoke badly about our biological mother.
He usually told us that we were lucky to have each other.
At the time, I thought he was trying to comfort us.
Now I wondered whether he had been trying to protect us from something.
Grandma Opal spoke again.
"You should have told them before he died."
Gwendolyn gave a short, impatient laugh.
"And risk losing everything?"
"What everything?"
"Our family. Our home. Everything Raymond built."
I looked down at the gift.
The silver bracelet suddenly seemed ridiculous.
I had spent the morning choosing something she might like.
Meanwhile, she had apparently spent years keeping something from us.
I heard a chair scrape against the floor.
Then Grandma Opal asked a question.
"What happens if they find out?"
Gwendolyn didn't hesitate.
"They won't."
"You can't be certain."
"I've been certain for twenty years."
I backed away from the kitchen.
I needed air.
I needed to think.
Most of all, I needed to stop hearing the voice of the woman who had raised me describing our lives as though they were hers to control.
I reached the front hallway.
My shoes were still beside the door.
I picked them up and stepped outside without putting them on.
The morning air felt cold against my face.
I placed the flowers on the porch bench.
For several seconds, I simply stared at them.
Then I looked through the front window.
Gwendolyn was sitting at the kitchen table.
Grandma Opal was beside her.
They were drinking coffee.
Ordinary people having an ordinary conversation.
That was the strangest part.
Nothing about the scene suggested that they had just changed the way I understood my entire childhood.
I walked to my car.
I didn't start the engine immediately.
Instead, I took out my phone and called Grant.
He answered after two rings.
"Did she like the flowers?"
I swallowed.
"I haven't given them to her."
"Why?"
"Grant, I heard something."
His voice changed.
"What happened?"
I stared at the house.
"She was talking to Grandma Opal."
"Okay."
"They were talking about us."
There was a pause.
"What about us?"
I tried to find the right words.
"I think there's something about our adoption that they never told us."
Grant didn't answer immediately.
Then he asked something I hadn't expected.
"What exactly did she say?"
I repeated the conversation as carefully as I could.
When I finished, he was quiet.
I heard him breathing on the other end.
Then he said something that made my stomach tighten again.
"Wesley, I need you to listen to me."
"I'm listening."
"I've never believed the story she told us."
I closed my eyes.
"What?"
"I've never believed it."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because every time I questioned her, she made me feel like I was accusing her of something terrible."
I remembered those arguments.
Grant asking questions.
Gwendolyn getting angry.
Me telling him to stop because we didn't need another fight.
I had spent years trying to keep the peace.
Perhaps I had helped keep the truth buried.
Grant continued.
"Do you remember the photograph Dad kept in his bedroom?"
I thought about it.
There had been a picture in a wooden frame beside Raymond's bed.
It showed him holding a baby.
I had always assumed it was one of us.
"Which photograph?"
"The one Mom never let us touch."
I remembered.
The frame had disappeared shortly after Raymond died.
Gwendolyn told us she had packed it away because she couldn't bear looking at it.
"Why?"
"I don't know. But I remember Dad getting upset when she tried to throw it away."
I looked at the house again.
"Do you think it was connected to our adoption?"
"I think we need to find out."
I started the engine.
The flowers were still on the porch.
The bracelet was still in the passenger seat.
I left both behind.
For the first time in my life, I didn't feel guilty about walking away from Gwendolyn.
I felt afraid.
But I also knew that going back inside and pretending I hadn't heard anything would be worse.
Click here to continue reading: PART 3: My Brother Revealed Something He Had Remembered From Childhood That I Had Spent Years Trying to Forget
I Thought Bringing Her Birthday Flowers Might Finally Make Her See Me as Her Son
Part 2 of 20
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