Miss Clara was awake when Luke arrived. She was sitting beside the window. An old quilt covered her lap.
She didn't look surprised to see him. "You found it."
Luke stopped. "The photograph?"
"The box."
Luke stared at her. "How did you know?"
Miss Clara looked toward the river. "The river told me."
Luke almost smiled. "That's not an answer."
"For Belle Rive, it usually is."
He sat across from her. He placed the photograph on the table. "The woman."
Miss Clara looked at it. For several seconds she said nothing.
Then she closed her eyes. "Her name was Evelyn."
Luke waited.
"Evelyn Mercer."
Patterson, standing behind him, went still.
Luke noticed. "You know her?"
Patterson shook his head. "No."
Miss Clara looked at him. "You should."
Patterson's face tightened. "Why?"
"Because she was the woman William Garrison loved."
Luke stared.
His father's old enemy had been involved with Evelyn Mercer?
Miss Clara continued. "And she was carrying his child."
The room seemed to lose all its air.
Luke looked at Patterson. Then back at Clara. "She had a child?"
Miss Clara nodded. "A boy."
Luke's mind raced. "Where is he?"
Miss Clara's eyes filled with tears. "That's the part I never understood."
"What?"
"Evelyn disappeared."
"When?"
"Two days after the Night Landing."
Luke leaned forward. "Did Garrison kill her?"
Miss Clara shook her head. "No."
"How do you know?"
"Because I saw her leave."
Luke froze. "Leave where?"
"The landing."
"With who?"
Miss Clara looked directly at him. "Sam."
Luke's heart stopped. "My father?"
"Your father was seventeen."
"I know."
"He helped her."
"Why?"
"Because she asked him to."
Luke stared at the photograph. "Where did they go?"
Miss Clara shook her head. "I don't know."
"You're sure?"
"Yes."
"Then how did you know she had a child?"
Miss Clara looked down. "Because she came back."
Luke's pulse quickened. "When?"
"Years later."
"Where?"
Miss Clara looked toward the hallway. "Belle Rive."
Luke stood. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"
Miss Clara's voice was barely audible. "Because by then, Evelyn was afraid."
"Of Garrison?"
"No."
She looked at Luke. "Of her son."
Luke felt a chill. "Why?"
Miss Clara reached for his hand.
"Because he had inherited more than his father's name."
She paused. "He had inherited his father's secrets."
A floorboard creaked upstairs. Everyone looked toward the ceiling.
Patterson reached for his pistol.
Luke stood. "Is someone else here?"
Miss Clara shook her head.
Then they heard it. A slow footstep. Another. Someone was walking across the second floor.
Patterson moved toward the stairs. Luke followed. They reached the landing. The hallway was empty.
But one bedroom door stood open. Inside was a small wooden desk. On the desk sat an envelope.
Patterson picked it up. There was no name. Only a single word.
MERCER.
Luke looked at Miss Clara.
She had come halfway up the stairs. Her face had gone white.
"What is it?"
She shook her head. "I prayed that would never be found."
Luke opened the envelope. Inside was a birth certificate.
The name of the mother:
Evelyn Mercer.
The father's name had been scratched out.
But beneath the torn paper, Luke could still make out the first few letters.
Willi...
Luke's breath caught.
He looked at Patterson. Patterson looked at the certificate. Then at Miss Clara.
"Where is the child?"
Miss Clara whispered: "He's here."
Luke felt the blood drain from his face. "Here?"
"In Belle Rive."
She looked at him. "He has been here all along."
And downstairs, the telephone began to ring. Once. Twice. Three times.
Miss Clara closed her eyes. "Oh, Lord."
Luke looked toward the stairs. "Who is it?"
Miss Clara whispered: "The past."
And the telephone kept ringing.