I need air.”
Outside, I leaned against the brick wall and tried to breathe.
Evelyn followed.
“My mother helped Helen take you.”
I turned.
“Take me?”
“That’s the part she has been carrying for thirty-eight years.”
I stared at her.
“What do you mean take me?”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
“The fire created chaos.
Records were destroyed.
Babies were moved.
Your biological mother had given birth only hours earlier and disappeared during the evacuation.”
“Why?”
“No one knew.”
“Then Helen just took me?”
“No.
Not exactly.”
“Then explain it.”
Evelyn’s voice dropped.
“Your mother believed someone was trying to kill you.”
I almost laughed again.
But Evelyn wasn’t smiling.
“She found an unsigned note inside your bassinet after the fire.”
“What did it say?”
Evelyn hesitated.
Then handed me a photocopy.
The handwriting was jagged.
Do not give the child to the man asking for her.
Her name must disappear
