Chapter 3 - The Drawing
Emma stared at the silver bracelet resting on the dark leather sofa. The overhead fluorescent light caught the tiny, familiar scratch on the clasp. Her chest tightened so fiercely she felt as though she were suffocating.
"Where did you get this?" she choked out, her fingers trembling as she reached for it. But she didn't touch it. She was terrified that if she touched it, it would turn out to be a hallucination.
"I just told you," Julian said harshly, though his hand, still pressing the towel to her bleeding back, was shaking. "Your lawyer gave it to me. Five years ago. In a boardroom in downtown Chicago. He said you wanted me to have it as proof that you were done. That you were walking away, and the bracelet was your way of cutting all ties."
Emma squeezed her eyes shut as a sickening wave of dizziness washed over her.
"I didn't have a lawyer, Julian," she whispered, her voice raw and broken. "I was twenty-two years old. I was recovering from an emergency C-section. I couldn't even afford to pay for my own pain medication when I left the ward, let alone hire a downtown lawyer to negotiate a buyout."
Julian’s jaw tightened. "Don't lie to me, Emma. I saw your signature on the contract. I know your handwriting. I know the way you loop your M's. I stared at that piece of paper for six months, trying to figure out how the woman I loved could put a price tag on our son."
"I didn't sign anything!" Emma cried out, the pain in her shoulder completely eclipsed by the agony in her chest. She turned fully toward him, wincing as the wound tore further. "Julian, look at me! Do I look like a woman who walked away with a quarter of a million dollars? I take the bus to work. I live in a studio above a laundromat. I have spent the last five years searching for you, but you unlisted your numbers, you moved out of the state, you vanished!"
Julian stared at her, his dark eyes searching hers for any sign of deception. He looked at her worn, scuffed waitress shoes. He looked at her thin, pale face, untouched by the luxury a massive payout would have provided. The cold certainty that had armored him for five years was beginning to crack, revealing the terrified, broken boy underneath.
Before Julian could speak, a small, soft voice broke the heavy tension in the room.
"Are you the lady from the box?"
Emma and Julian both turned.
Leo had climbed down from the heavy oak desk chair. He walked slowly across the carpet, his little light-up sneakers flashing with every step. He stopped just a foot away from Emma.
Emma’s heart hammered against her ribs. She looked at her son. Her beautiful, perfect son. She wanted to pull him into her arms and never let him go, but she kept her hands tightly clasped in her lap. She didn't want to scare him.
"What box, buddy?" Julian asked, his voice instantly softening as he looked at his son.
Leo ignored his father. He reached into the small pocket of his denim overalls and pulled out a folded piece of construction paper. He smoothed it out with his tiny hands and held it up to Emma.
Emma took the paper, her fingers brushing lightly against Leo's. A jolt of electricity shot straight to her heart.
She looked down at the drawing. It was drawn in bright, messy crayons. It showed a woman with long brown hair, wearing a hospital gown. But what made Emma’s breath catch in her throat was the detail on the woman’s wrist.
Drawn in thick, dark purple crayon, right on the inside of the woman’s left wrist, was a small, star-shaped mark.
Emma slowly turned her left arm over.
There, on the inside of her wrist, was her birthmark. A cluster of dark freckles perfectly shaped like a tiny star.
Julian leaned over her shoulder, looking at the drawing, and then down at her wrist. The color drained completely from his face.
"Leo," Julian said, his voice deadly quiet. "Where did you see a picture of this lady?"
Leo blinked his large gray-green eyes. "In Mommy's closet. In the dark wooden box. She keeps it locked, but she left the key on the dresser on Tuesday."
Emma felt a cold spike of dread pierce her stomach. "Mommy?" she whispered, looking at Julian. "You're married?"
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Julian didn't answer her. He was staring at his son with a look of absolute horror. "Leo... Victoria doesn't have any pictures of Emma. I burned them all. I burned everything the day after the lawyer gave me that contract."
Leo shook his head stubbornly. "Not pictures, Dad. Just her." The little boy pointed a small, sticky finger directly at Emma’s face. "Mommy has her hospital bracelet. The white plastic one. It has her name on it. And a bunch of papers with Mommy's name on them, too."
