Chapter 2 - The Sister Nobody Found
Nobody hugged me.
That was the first good decision the Romano family made that morning.
Aunt Rosa—if she was somehow my aunt too—cried openly.
Ava still held my hand.
Gabriel stood six feet away as if distance were suddenly the only respectful thing he understood.
Someone turned off the music.
Someone else moved the broken cookie box.
I hated that.
“I can clean that.”
Twenty people looked at me.
I laughed because the alternative was screaming.
“Sorry. Professional reflex.”
Gabriel’s mouth tightened.
“Lily.”
“No.”
He stopped.
“I need air.”
He nodded.
No argument.
I walked back outside.
Ava followed.
So did Gabriel.
I turned.
“One person.”
Gabriel looked at Ava.
She crossed her arms.
“I found her.”
I almost laughed.
Gabriel sighed.
“Fine.”
He stayed by the door.
Ava came with me.
We sat on the stone steps.
Snow covered the lawn.
My hands would not stop shaking.
Ava looked at me.
“Are you my aunt?”
“Apparently we are still checking whether your family has mistaken one lonely waitress for another.”
She considered.
“That would be awkward.”
“Yes.”
She leaned against my arm.
I stiffened.
Then let her.
Five minutes later, Gabriel came outside carrying my coat.
He did not put it around me.
He held it out.
I took it.
“Thank you.”
“Rosa found something.”
“I do not want a dramatic reveal every seven minutes.”
“I agree.”
“What?”
“A photograph.”
I closed my eyes.
“Of course.”
He gave it to me.
Two girls.
One older.
One baby.
The older girl was maybe eleven.
Dark hair.
Same eyes as Ava.
The baby had a small crescent-shaped birthmark behind her left ear.
My hand went there automatically.
Gabriel saw.
So did Ava.
I stood.
“No.”
“Lily.”
“No.”
I walked down the steps.
He did not follow immediately.
Good.
Then he said, “We can do DNA.”
I stopped.
Facts.
Not emotion.
“Yes.”
He came closer.
“Today if you want.”
“Today is Christmas.”
“Labs do not stop existing.”
That almost made me smile.
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow.”
I turned back.
“What do your records say?”
He took a breath.
Elena Romano had been born Elena Mercer.
Her younger sister Lillian was born six years later.
Their mother struggled with addiction.
Their father disappeared before Lillian’s birth.
When Elena was eleven and Lillian five, child services removed both from the home.
Elena went to one foster placement.
Lillian another.
They were supposed to remain in contact.
They did not.
Records fragmented.
One caseworker retired.
Another agency closed.
Elena aged out at eighteen and spent years searching.
“She never found me.”
“No.”
“Did she stop?”
“Never.”
His voice changed.
“Not even after Ava was born.”
My throat tightened.
Ava whispered, “Mom looked for you?”
“Yes.”
Gabriel looked at his daughter.
“She kept a folder.”
“Where?”
“In my office.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Everyone in your world keeps folders.”
“Unfortunately.”
“What was in it?”
“Search reports. court records. foster agency correspondence. possible addresses.”
“Why didn’t she find me?”
“Your surname changed twice.”
That was true.
Mercer.
Then Carter after one foster family began adoption and stopped midway.
My legal name stayed Carter after the court allowed it for school continuity.
A system designed to keep records had still managed to scatter a child.
Gabriel continued.
“One report said Lillian Mercer had been adopted in Pennsylvania.”
“I wasn’t.”
“We know that now.”
“She thought I had a family.”
“Yes.”
That hurt.
Because maybe Elena stopped searching sometimes believing I was safe.
I had not been unsafe exactly.
Not always.
But never permanent.
“Did she know I was in New York?”
“No.”
“I’ve been here six years.”
He looked pained.
“She died four years ago.”
Two years apart.
Same city.
Never meeting.
I sat again.
Ava whispered, “My mom would be happy.”
I looked at her.
“You don’t know that.”
She frowned.
“Yes I do.”
“How?”
“She wrote about you.”
Gabriel looked at her.
“What?”
Ava jumped up.
“In the Christmas book.”
His face changed.
“What Christmas book?”
“In Mom’s closet.”
“Ava.”
“She said I could look at her things.”
“I know. Which book?”
“The red one.”
She ran inside.
Gabriel looked at me.
“I have no idea.”
“Comforting.”
She returned carrying a red leather journal.
Gabriel stared.
“I have never seen that.”
Ava handed it to me.
“I found it last year.”
“You read it?”
“Some.”
Gabriel closed his eyes.
Privacy was losing badly in the Romano household.
I opened the book.
Elena’s handwriting filled the pages.
I did not know her handwriting.
That fact hurt.
Ava pointed.
“Christmas.”
December 24, four years before Elena died.
A line.
If I ever find Lily, I am never letting her spend Christmas alone again.
My vision blurred.
I closed the journal.
Too much.
Ava touched my sleeve.
“She wanted you.”
The sentence broke me.
I cried.
Not elegantly.
Not quietly.
Twenty years of nobody choosing me moved through one line written by a sister I could not remember.
Ava hugged me.
This time I hugged back.
Gabriel stayed where he was.
When I could breathe, I looked at him.
“How did she die?”
His face changed.
“Cancer.”
I had expected something violent.
Given his reputation.
The ordinary cruelty of disease felt worse.
“What kind?”
“Ovarian.”
“How long?”
“Eighteen months.”
“Did she look for me while sick?”
“Yes.”
I cried again.
Gabriel sat two steps lower.
“She had private investigators.”
“Did they know foster systems?”
“Not enough.”
“Money couldn’t solve it.”
“No.”
That surprised me too.
I had spent years imagining rich people could solve every problem if they cared.
Apparently records could defeat money when enough institutions had failed.
Ava rested her head against me.
“What happens if I’m not her sister?”
She looked alarmed.
“You are.”
“We don’t know.”
“Yes we do.”
Gabriel said gently, “Ava.”
She looked at him.
“We wait for the test.”
She frowned.
“I hate waiting.”
“You inherited that from me.”
We went back inside.
Breakfast had become cold.
Nobody complained.
Rosa came toward me carefully.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For saying it like that.”
“That girl has Elena’s eyes.”
She flinched.
“Yes.”
“You scared me.”
“I know.”
She looked at my face.
“Can I ask one question?”
“Maybe.”
“Do you remember a song?”
I almost said no.
Then she hummed.
Three notes.
Simple.
My body knew before my mind did.
I whispered the next line.
Rosa covered her mouth.
A memory flashed.
A girl brushing my hair.
A cracked blue wall.
Someone singing quietly while adults shouted in another room.
I stood too fast.
The chair fell.
Everyone froze.
“I remember her.”
Gabriel stepped forward.
I shook my head.
“I remember a song.”
Rosa cried.
I cried.
Ava looked delighted and heartbroken simultaneously.
The rest of Christmas breakfast happened around me.
Plates reheated.
Coffee poured.
People introduced themselves.
I forgot every name.
Ava explained which relatives cheated at cards.
Gabriel’s uncle pretended offense.
For one strange hour, I sat at a table full of people who might be connected to me by blood and history.
It did not feel like home.
Not yet.
That mattered.
Home was not proved by DNA.
At one, I stood.
“I need to go.”
Ava looked betrayed.
“One hour.”
“You stayed three.”
“I’m generous.”
She hugged me.
“Tomorrow test.”
“Yes.”
Gabriel walked me to the door.
“I can drive you.”
“No.”
“Subway on Christmas is terrible.”
“So are black sedans.”
He almost smiled.
“I’ll call a normal car.”
“No.”
“Lily.”
“I need one thing today to stay normal.”
He nodded.
“Okay.”
I put on my coat.
Then he handed me the red journal.
I stared.
“No.”
“It belongs to you too.”
“No. It belongs to Ava.”
Ava appeared behind him.
“You can borrow it.”
I looked at her.
“How long?”
“Until next Christmas.”
Gabriel sighed.
“She negotiates like this constantly.”
I took the journal.
“One week.”
Ava accepted.
I left.
On the subway, I opened to another page.
Elena had written about searching.
County records.
Agency numbers.
Dead ends.
Then a name stopped me.
Bellini.
Mr. Bellini.
My employer.
The entry was dated five years ago.
Called Sal Bellini. Says a young woman named Lily works near Atlantic Avenue. Could be nothing. He will check discreetly.
My heart slammed.
Mr. Bellini knew Elena was looking for me.
Maybe knew who I was.
I got off the train two stops early and called him.
He answered immediately.
“Merry Christmas, Lily.”
“Did you know?”
Silence.
That was enough.
“Mr. Bellini.”
“I can explain.”
“Were you helping my sister find me?”
A long pause.
“Yes.”
I stopped on the platform.
People moved around me.
Christmas bags.
Children.
Noise.
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
His voice cracked.
“Because the day I confirmed your records, Elena died.”
I closed my eyes.
“And after?”
“I tried to reach Gabriel.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
Silence.
“Mr. Bellini.”
“He told me Lily Mercer had been found in Pennsylvania.”
My blood went cold.
“Who told you that?”
“Someone from his office.”
“Name.”
Another pause.
“Matteo.”
I stared down the tunnel.
Matteo.
The man who had stood beside the sedan.
The man Ava trusted.
The man who drove her everywhere.
Mr. Bellini whispered, “Lily, I think someone made sure Elena stopped looking in the right direction.”
The next train roared into the station.
I barely heard it.
Christmas had not given me a family.
May you like
It had given me a question.
Who had spent years making sure my sister never found me?
