My thoughts became tangled.
I wanted to reach for her.
I wanted to demand answers.
I wanted to tell her that I had searched for her every day of my life.
Instead, I heard footsteps in the hallway.
Charles entered the dining room, already dressed for work.
He glanced at me, then at Lily.
"What's going on?"
I pointed toward the pendant.
"Charles, look."
He followed my gaze.
For one brief moment, his face became completely expressionless.
Then he turned pale.
Lily noticed.
"Is something wrong, Mr. Harrington?"
Charles stepped toward her.
"Take that necklace off."
His voice was so harsh that Lily recoiled.
"Charles!" I exclaimed.
He ignored me.
"I said take it off."
Lily's hand flew to her throat.
"I don't understand."
"Where did you get it?"
"My mother gave it to me."
"Your mother is dead."
The words escaped his mouth before he could stop them.
Lily stared at him.
"How do you know that?"
Charles said nothing.
I looked at my husband.
"What did you just say?"
He recovered quickly, but not quickly enough.
"I meant that if she is your adoptive mother, she may not have told you the whole truth."
Lily's eyes filled with tears.
"My mother died six years ago."
Charles looked away.
Something inside me broke.
He knew more than he was admitting.
I could see it in the tightness around his mouth, in the way he avoided looking at the pendant, and in the fear that appeared whenever Lily mentioned her past.
"Charles," I said slowly, "I want you to explain."
"Not now."
"When?"
"Later."
He grabbed his briefcase and walked out of the dining room.
The front door slammed several seconds later.
Lily stood motionless beside the table.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't know the necklace would upset you."
I looked at her.
Her eyes were brown, but there was something in them that reminded me of the little girl who had once climbed into my bed during thunderstorms.
I reached for Lily's hand.
"Please don't take it off."
She looked surprised.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Keep wearing it."
My voice trembled.
"And please, Lily, tell me everything you remember about your mother."
Because in that moment, I understood something that frightened me more than the possibility of losing Emily all over again.
My husband had recognized the necklace before I had finished speaking.
And whatever he knew about its history, he had been hiding it from me for twenty-two years.
Lily agreed to speak with me after dinner.
We sat in the small sitting room overlooking the rose garden. I had asked the cook to prepare tea, but neither of us touched our cups. The silver pendant rested against Lily's blouse, catching the lamplight whenever she moved.
I wanted to ask a hundred questions.
Instead, I began with the simplest one.
"How much do you remember about your childhood?"
Lily folded her hands in her lap.
"Quite a lot, actually. I remember living in a small apartment in Hartford. My mother worked long hours, and I often stayed with a neighbor after school. We didn't have much money, but she always made sure I had what I needed."
"Did she ever tell you about your biological parents?"
"Not much."
"Did she tell you where you were born?"
"Boston, according to my adoption papers. But I don't know the hospital."
I tried to keep my voice steady.
"When did she adopt you?"
"I was six, almost seven. She told me I had spent some time in temporary care before she brought me home."
The room seemed to grow colder.
Six years old.
Emily had been six when she disappeared.
I gripped my teacup to keep my hands from shaking.
"Did she tell you why you had been placed in temporary care?"
Lily looked down at the pendant.
"She said my biological mother had been in trouble. She never explained what kind of trouble."
"What do you mean?"
"Sometimes she said my mother was ill. Other times, she said she had been forced to give me up. When I was younger, I thought that meant my birth mother had died."
"And when you grew older?"
"I began to realize that my mother was avoiding the subject."
Lily took a breath.
"Once, when I was about sixteen, I asked her whether she had ever met my biological parents. She became so upset that she locked herself in her bedroom. She didn't speak to me for the rest of the evening."
"Did she ever explain why?"
"No. The next morning, she apologized and told me she loved me. She said I was her daughter, and that was all that mattered."
Lily looked at me.
"I believed her. I still do."
There was no bitterness in her voice. Only affection.
That made the situation even more complicated.
If Lily was Emily, then Anne Carter had raised my daughter for years while I searched for her. If Lily was not Emily, then someone had taken my daughter's necklace and given it to a stranger.
Neither possibility was easy to accept.
"Did your mother leave any documents?" I asked.
"Some. I have a box of her personal belongings in my apartment. There are letters, photographs, and a few old medical records. I never examined them closely."
"Would you allow me to see them?"
Lily hesitated.
"I would, but I don't know whether that would be appropriate."
"You're right," I admitted. "I shouldn't ask you to trust me simply because I'm frightened by a coincidence."
She seemed relieved that I had acknowledged it.
"But if you're willing," I continued, "I'd like to help you understand where the necklace came from. Even if the answer has nothing to do with my daughter."
Lily looked at the pendant for a long time.
"All right."
That night, I barely slept.
Charles returned home after midnight. I heard him moving around downstairs, opening drawers and walking from room to room. Eventually, he came into our bedroom.
I sat up in bed.
"Where have you been?"
"At the office."
"At midnight?"
"I had work to finish."
"Charles, stop lying to me."
He froze beside the dresser.
I had rarely spoken to him that way. During our marriage, I had often allowed difficult conversations to fade rather than force them to a conclusion.
But I could not do that anymore.
"That necklace belonged to Emily," I said. "You recognized it immediately. You knew Anne Carter. And when Lily told you she had been adopted, you looked as though someone had threatened your life."
Charles removed his watch and placed it on the dresser.