Chapter 1 - THE TWO BABIES ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD
Ashley saw her first.
“Michael.”
I kept driving.
We were twenty minutes outside Macon on Highway 23, headed toward my mother’s lake house for a weekend I already did not want to attend.
Ashley touched my arm.
“Michael, stop.”
“What?”
“That woman.”
I glanced toward the shoulder.
A woman walked beneath the August sun with a baby strapped to her chest and another balanced against one hip.
A grocery bag hung from her wrist.
Aluminum cans protruded from the top.
Her clothes were faded.
Her hair was pulled into a loose knot.
Nothing about her should have made me touch the brakes.
Then she lifted her face.
The truck behind me blasted its horn when I swerved onto the shoulder.
Ashley grabbed the dashboard.
“What the hell?”
I barely heard her.
Emily.
My ex-wife.
The woman I had not seen in eleven months.
The woman I had accused of betraying me.
The woman I had watched walk out of our divorce hearing without looking back.
She stood thirty yards ahead of us.
And there were two babies with her.
I turned off the engine.
“Michael.”
Ashley’s voice changed.
I opened the door.
“Wait.”
I stepped into the heat.
Emily had already stopped.
Her face went white when she saw me.
The child against her chest began fussing.
She tightened one hand around the carrier.
“Emily.”
She looked at Ashley.
Then back at me.
“Michael.”
My name sounded like something she regretted saying.
I took two steps.
Emily moved backward.
I stopped.
The second baby turned toward me.
A boy.
Maybe eight months old.
Blond hair.
Gray-blue eyes.
A dimple near his left cheek.
The same dimple I had in every childhood photograph.
The baby against Emily’s chest woke.
She was a girl.
Same hair.
Same eyes.
I could not breathe.
“How old are they?”
Emily stared at me.
“Don’t.”
“How old?”
“Michael.”
“Please.”
Ashley got out of the car.
Her heels clicked against the pavement.
“Oh my God.”
Emily’s expression changed immediately.
Fear.
Not jealousy.
Not anger.
Fear.
Ashley walked toward us.
“Well.”
She looked Emily up and down.
“This is unexpected.”
“Stay away from her,” Emily said.
Ashley laughed.
“I’m not the one who cheated on my husband.”
Emily’s face hardened.
Something inside me twisted.
Ashley reached into her purse, pulled out a twenty-dollar bill, and held it toward Emily.
“Here.”
Emily did not take it.
“For food.”
No response.
Ashley let the bill fall onto the dirt.
“You clearly need it.”
“Ashley.”
She looked at me.
“What? I’m trying to help.”
Emily stared at me.
There was no rage in her eyes.
I almost wished there had been.
Rage would have let me defend myself.
What I saw was exhaustion.
The kind that existed after somebody had already stopped expecting rescue.
She shifted the boy on her hip.
“We need to go.”
“Emily.”
“No.”
“Are they mine?”
Her mouth trembled.
Ashley made a disgusted sound.
“Michael.”
I kept my eyes on Emily.
“Are they mine?”
She swallowed.
“You made it very clear you didn’t want anything from me.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“You accused me of sleeping with another man.”
“I know.”
“You told your attorney to make sure I left the house with what I brought into the marriage.”
“I know.”
“You watched them call me a thief.”
My throat tightened.
“I know.”
“No.”
Her eyes filled.
“You knew what they said. You didn’t know what was true.”
The girl started crying.
Emily rocked gently.
I took another step without thinking.
Emily moved back.
“Don’t.”
I froze.
The road hummed behind us.
Cicadas screamed from the pines.
“I need to know.”
“You needed to know a year ago.”
Then she turned.
“Emily.”
She kept walking.
I followed two steps.
“Where are you staying?”
She did not answer.
“Do the babies have food?”
She stopped.
That question got through where everything else failed.
Her shoulders tightened.
“We’re fine.”
The grocery bag of crushed cans said otherwise.
I reached for my wallet.
She looked over her shoulder.
“If you throw money at me like she did, I swear to God—”
I stopped.
“You’re right.”
Ashley folded her arms.
“This is insane.”
Emily looked at her.
“Does he know?”
Ashley’s expression changed.
Barely.
“What?”
Emily gave a tired laugh.
“Of course he doesn’t.”
My pulse jumped.
“Know what?”
Emily looked at me for one long second.
Then said, “Ask your fiancée why the hospital stopped calling you.”
Ashley went completely still.
Emily walked away.
I watched until the trees swallowed her.
The twenty-dollar bill remained in the dirt.
When I turned around, Ashley was already headed toward the passenger door.
“What did she mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Why did she say the hospital called me?”
“She’s manipulating you.”
“What hospital?”
“Michael.”
I stepped in front of the door.
“What hospital?”
Ashley looked around as if the heat offended her.
“I don’t know.”
“You reacted.”
“Because your homeless ex-wife just appeared with two children and tried to destroy our relationship in under five minutes.”
“Do not call her homeless.”
Ashley laughed.
“She’s collecting cans on the side of the road.”
I stared at her.
“She was my wife.”
“Was.”
I got back into the truck.
Ashley did not.
“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“Your mother is expecting us.”
“I’m not going.”
“Michael.”
“Call a car.”
Her face changed.
“You’re leaving me here?”
“There’s a gas station half a mile back.”
“You cannot be serious.”
I started the engine.
“Michael.”
I looked at her.
“Did you know Emily was pregnant?”
“No.”
Too quick.
I said nothing.
Ashley folded her arms.
“No.”
I drove away.
That night I hired David Reynolds.
David had been a Georgia Bureau of Investigation financial-crimes analyst before opening a private investigative firm in Atlanta.
He had done due diligence for Carter Development Group twice.
He knew how to be boring.
I needed boring.
“Find Emily.”
He watched me across his office.
“Legally.”
“Yes.”
“Do you have a custody case?”
“No.”
“Protective order?”
“No.”
“Then I locate public records and people willing to speak. I do not stalk your ex-wife.”
“Fine.”
“What else?”
“Hospital records.”
“You do not get those because you are curious.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
I slid a photograph across his desk.
Emily and me at Lake Oconee three years earlier.
She was laughing because I dropped a birthday cake.
David looked at it.
“You think the children are yours.”
“Yes.”
“You asking me to prove paternity?”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“I’m asking you to find out why she thought somebody stopped a hospital from contacting me.”
David called three days later.
“Sit down.”
I was in my office at Carter Development Group.
“I am sitting.”
“Emily delivered twins at Piedmont Macon eleven months ago.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“Eleven?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“September twenty-third.”
I counted backward.
Emily left our house in January.
Divorce finalized in April.
She had been pregnant before I filed.
My stomach turned.
“Names?”
“Ethan Michael Reyes Carter and Lily Grace Reyes Carter.”
Michael.
She gave our son my name.
I pressed my fingers against my eyes.
“Father listed?”
“Blank on the initial birth record.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did she try to reach me?”
“Yes.”
The word hit harder than anything else.
“How?”
“Hospital social-work notes show she provided three numbers for you.”
“My cell?”
“Yes.”
“Office?”
“Yes.”
“Home?”
“Yes.”
“I received nothing.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Hospital called your cell twice. Both calls went straight to voicemail. Office line was answered.”
“By whom?”
“That’s where it gets interesting.”
I stood.
“The note says the hospital spoke with a woman who identified herself as a Carter family representative.”
“What woman?”
“She said Mr. Carter was aware of the pregnancy and did not wish further contact.”
My mouth went dry.
“Name?”
“The nurse documented it.”
I closed my eyes.
May you like
“David.”
“Ashley Bennett.”
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