The Woman Who Answered the Phone
Chapter 09 - The Woman Who Answered the Phone
Grace Holloway answered on the third ring.
Her voice was sharp.
"Who is this?"
"My name is Noah Reed."
Silence.
I continued.
"I think my birth name was Julian Whitmore."
A long pause.
Then she asked, "Who told you that?"
"I have DNA evidence. Old photographs. Letters from my mother."
Grace said nothing.
I swallowed.
"Please. I just want to know if she's alive."
Her response was barely audible.
"Somebody told me this day might come."
My heart hammered.
"Who?"
"Catherine."
I stood so quickly my chair struck the floor.
"Where is she?"
"Before I tell you anything, I need to ask a question."
"Anything."
"What did your mother call you when you were frightened?"
I froze.
A memory flickered.
A warm voice.
A yellow door.
Someone brushing hair away from my forehead.
Then a phrase came to me.
Not from the photograph.
Not from the newspaper.
From somewhere deep inside.
"Little lighthouse."
Grace inhaled sharply.
My throat tightened.
"She said I was her little lighthouse."
I heard crying.
Then Grace whispered, "Oh, sweetheart."
I couldn't move.
"Please tell me."
Grace took a long breath.
"Your mother is alive."
The room disappeared around me.
I sat down slowly.
"Where?"
"She's safe."
Tears filled my eyes.
"Can I see her?"
Grace hesitated.
"She has been through things you can't imagine. She needs to know this isn't another trick."
I closed my eyes.
"Tell her I remember the yellow door."
Grace began crying again.
"And tell her I still have the scar from saving the bird."
There was a long silence.
Then Grace whispered, "I'll call you back."
The next twelve hours were the longest of my life.
I couldn't eat.
I couldn't sleep.
Every time my phone moved, my heart jumped.
Mia stayed beside me.
Eleanor called twice.
Rebecca cautioned me to keep my expectations grounded.
But I couldn't stop imagining my mother.
Was she well?
Would she recognize me?
Would she want to see me?
Had she built another family?
Had she spent sixteen years grieving someone who was alive?
At 6:14 the following morning, my phone rang.
Grace.
I answered immediately.
"Hello?"
A woman breathed on the other end.
Then a trembling voice spoke.
"Julian?"
I covered my mouth.
Something inside me recognized that voice before my mind did.
"Mom?"
She began crying.
"Oh, my baby."
I bent forward.
"Mom."
For several moments, neither of us could say anything.
Then she whispered, "Did they hurt you?"
I closed my eyes.
"No."
It wasn't entirely true.
They had stolen years from us.
But Thomas Reed had loved me.
Mia had loved me.
I'd had a childhood.
Not a perfect one.
But a life.
"Someone took care of me," I said. "His name was Thomas Reed."
She sobbed softly.
"I prayed someone would."
"Mom, I want to see you."
"Me too, sweetheart."
I gripped the phone.
"Where are you?"
She hesitated.
Then said, "Grace is going to help us."
I nodded, though she couldn't see me.
"Okay."
Before the call ended, she asked something that broke my heart.
"Julian?"
"Yes?"
"Do you still like lemon cake?"
I laughed through tears.
"Yeah."
She began crying again.
"Your father used to make it for your birthday."
I looked toward Mia.
She was crying too.
"I want to hear everything about him," I whispered.
"You will, baby."
For the first time in sixteen years, my mother was making me a promise.
May you like
And this time, I believed we might finally get to keep it.
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