The Name My Husband Never Told Me
Chapter 02 - The Name My Husband Never Told Me
"No."
Grant said the word too quickly.
Eli flinched.
I turned toward my husband.
"No, what?"
Grant stood.
"I mean... there has to be some mistake."
But he couldn't take his eyes off the boy.
That frightened me more than anything.
A restaurant manager hurried toward us, followed by a young hostess.
"I'm so sorry," the manager said. "We didn't realize he'd come upstairs alone."
"Alone?" I asked.
The hostess crouched beside Eli.
"Your mother was taken to St. Vincent's, sweetheart. Remember? The paramedics said we should wait downstairs."
Grant's head snapped toward her.
"What happened to Hannah?"
I heard it.
Not Miss Reed.
Not his mother.
Hannah.
Like the name belonged somewhere inside him.
The hostess explained that a woman had collapsed near the hotel entrance. Eli had been with her. While paramedics were helping his mother, he'd apparently seen Grant through the glass doors of the rooftop restaurant.
Or perhaps he'd recognized him from the photograph.
"She woke up for a minute," Eli said quietly. "She told me not to be scared."
Then he looked at Grant.
"But she said if anything happened, I had to find you."
Grant sat down again as though his legs had stopped working.
I picked up the photograph.
There was handwriting on the back.
A date.
Nine years earlier.
I stared at it.
Nine years.
Eli was eight.
My stomach turned.
Grant and I had been married for fifteen.
"Claire," Grant said.
I stood.
"Not here."
"Please let me explain."
"Then explain one thing."
He looked at me.
"Did you know her?"
A long pause.
"Yes."
The answer cut deeper than I expected.
"How?"
"She worked with me."
"When?"
Grant hesitated.
I looked at the date again.
Then I remembered.
Nine years earlier.
The year our baby girl died before we ever got to bring her home.
The year I stopped sleeping.
The year Grant and I spent six months living in separate houses because neither of us knew how to look at the other without seeing everything we'd lost.
My hands began to shake.
"Was she with you during our separation?"
Grant closed his eyes.
That was my answer.
I picked up my purse.
"Claire."
"Take Eli to his mother."
"Where are you going?"
I looked at the man whose face had been beside mine in thousands of photographs.
And for the first time, I wondered how many lives a person could live without the person sleeping beside them ever knowing.
"I'm going home," I said.
Grant reached for me.
I stepped away.
Then Eli spoke.
"Mrs. Bennett?"
I turned.
He held out a small piece of paper.
"My mom said this was for you."
Not Grant.
Me.
I unfolded it.
May you like
There were only six handwritten words.
Ask him what happened in Savannah.
