Chapter 22 - The Other Whitmore SonWalter Whitmore arrived at the farmhouse forty-three minutes later.
Margaret refused to let him drive alone.
She sat beside him in the passenger seat, pale and furious, while Walter entered the kitchen looking like a man approaching his own execution.
Grant stood by the window.
He did not offer his father coffee.
That frightened Walter more than anger would have.
Hannah placed Grace in the bassinet.
Leo was upstairs napping.
Rebecca had been called.
Marcus was on his way.
No secrets.
Not anymore.
Grant turned.
“I had a brother?”
Walter sat.
“Yes.”
“What was his name?”
“Gabriel.”
Grant’s face changed.
He had never heard the name.
Not once.
“Twin?”
Walter nodded.
“Seven minutes younger.”
Hannah sat beside Grant.
She did not touch him yet.
She let him decide whether he needed it.
“What happened?” Grant asked.
Margaret answered.
“You were born healthy. Gabriel had respiratory complications.”
“He died?”
Walter looked down.
“No.”
Grant became completely motionless.
Hannah whispered:
“Oh my God.”
Walter rubbed both hands over his face.
“Whitmore Holdings was collapsing then. Your grandfather had enemies everywhere. There were debts. Threats.”
Grant’s voice became dangerously quiet.
“What did you do?”
“We received a threat against the family.”
“What did you do?”
Walter finally looked at him.
“We sent Gabriel away.”
Silence.
Grant stared at his father as though language itself had stopped making sense.
“You abandoned a newborn?”
“No.”
Walter’s voice cracked.
“We placed him with people we trusted.”
“Who?”
“A family in Vermont.”
“Why him?”
Margaret began sobbing.
“That was my question.”
Grant looked at his mother.
She covered her mouth.
“Your father said nobody knew there were two babies. The press had reported one son. The Whitmore heir.”
Grant understood.
He had been selected.
Gabriel had been hidden.
“You chose me.”
Walter said nothing.
“You chose which son was worth protecting.”
“It wasn't like that.”
“It was exactly like that.”
Walter stood.
“I was thirty-one years old! Men were threatening to burn our house with everyone inside. I made the decision I thought gave both children the greatest chance of survival.”
“And then?”
Walter froze.
Grant stepped closer.
“What happened after the threat ended?”
No answer.
“You brought him home?”
Margaret cried harder.
Grant’s expression emptied.
“You never brought him home.”
Walter looked suddenly old.
“The family raising Gabriel loved him.”
“He was your son.”
“I know.”
“Did he know?”
“Eventually.”
“When?”
“Sixteen.”
Grant turned away.
His hands shook.
Hannah finally approached.
She touched his back.
Grant looked toward the staircase.
Leo’s toy dinosaur lay on the fourth step.
He imagined someone telling him that keeping Grace was inconvenient.
That Leo would stay while Grace disappeared.
The thought made him physically ill.
“Where is Gabriel now?”
Walter hesitated.
“I don’t know.”
Grant laughed once.
There was nothing humorous in it.
“You lost your son?”
“He stopped contacting us twenty years ago.”
“Us?”
Margaret shook her head quickly.
“Not me. Your father.”
Grant turned toward her.
“You met him?”
“Once.”
“When?”
“He was nineteen.”
Her voice trembled.
“He looked exactly like you.”
Grant closed his eyes.
“What did he want?”
“To meet his brother.”
Grant’s eyes opened.
“And?”
Margaret looked at Walter.
Grant understood before anyone spoke.
“You stopped him.”
Walter whispered:
“I thought bringing him into your life would endanger both of you.”
Grant stared at his father.
For years he had blamed Walter for teaching him that power mattered more than affection.
Now he understood something worse.
Walter had been practicing that philosophy before Grant could walk.
A car pulled into the driveway.
Marcus.
Grant looked down at the storage address.
“Locker 418.”
Hannah immediately said:
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
Her eyebrows rose.
Grant corrected himself.
“I would prefer you didn’t.”
“Better.”
“Hannah.”
“Whoever sent this photographed our daughter.”
Grant’s jaw tightened.
“Exactly.”
“Which makes this my problem too.”
Grant wanted to argue.
Instead, he nodded.
“Okay.”
Walter stood.
“Grant, don't open that locker.”
Grant looked at him.
“Why?”
May you like
Walter’s face went pale.
And that was when Grant realized his father knew exactly what was inside.
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