Chapter 196 The Siege

Chapter 196 The Siege
The morning after Thomas's departure, the cottage felt different. The air was lighter. The dogwoods seemed greener. The family moved through their routines with a sense of relief they hadn't felt in months.

Damian slept through the night for the first time in weeks. He woke to the sound of birds and the smell of pancakes. Ava was already in the kitchen, flipping batter, her hair still messy from sleep.

"You're up," she said.

"I'm up."

"Did you sleep?"

"I slept."

"Good." She slid a pancake onto a plate. "Because we have a long day ahead."

"What's happening today?"

"We're going to the foundation. Elena needs help with a new case. And Rose wants to interview you for her blog."

Damian smiled. "Busy day."

"The best kind."

The foundation was buzzing with activity. Elena was on the phone, her voice calm and professional. Hannah was sorting through files. Grace was typing furiously on her laptop.

Damian and Ava walked in, and the energy shifted.

"Good morning," Elena said, covering the phone. "I'll call you back."

She hung up and turned to them. "We have a new case. A woman named Rachel. She's been searching for her birth mother for thirty years. She thinks Clara might be her mother."

Damian frowned. "Clara? But Clara gave up all her children."

"Apparently not all of them. There's a gap in the records. A baby born in 1976 that was never documented."

"Another one," Ava said.

"Another one," Elena agreed.

The family spent the day researching. Leo dug through old records. Rose interviewed family members. James and Emma searched through Clara's letters.

At sunset, they gathered in the yellow room. The stars glowed above them. The cedar chest was open.

"I found something," Leo said. "A letter from Clara to a woman named Beatrice. It mentions a baby born in 1976. A girl."

"Where is the letter?" Damian asked.

"It's in the cedar chest. I found it folded inside Clara's diary."

Damian took the letter and read it aloud.

Dear Beatrice,

I know I shouldn't be writing this. I know I should let go. But I can't. I can't stop thinking about her. I can't stop wondering if she's happy.

I gave her up because I couldn't give her the life she deserved. I was young. I was alone. I was broken.

But I never stopped loving her. I never stopped hoping she would find her way back to me.

If you ever see her, tell her I'm sorry. Tell her I loved her.

—Clara

The family was silent. Then Rose spoke. "She had another child. A daughter."

"She had another child," Margaret agreed.

"And that child is still out there."

The search for Beatrice began. Leo traced her to a small town in Oregon. She was still alive, living in a retirement home. The family drove there the next day.

Beatrice was in her eighties, frail but sharp. She recognized them immediately.

"You're Clara's family," she said.

"We are," Damian said. "We found your letter."

Beatrice nodded slowly. "I've been waiting for this day. I've been waiting for someone to come looking."

"Did Clara have another child?"

Beatrice looked at her hands. "Yes. She had a daughter. She gave her up for adoption. She never told anyone. Not even Margaret."

"Who is the daughter?"

Beatrice looked up, her eyes wet. "Her name is Emily. She's alive. She lives in Seattle. She has a family of her own."

The family drove to Seattle the next morning. Emily's house was small, with a garden full of roses. A woman in her forties answered the door. She had Clara's eyes.

"Emily?" Damian asked.

"I'm Emily," she said. "Who are you?"

"We're your family. Clara was your mother."

Emily stared at them. "Clara was my mother? I thought my mother died when I was a baby."

"She didn't die. She gave you up for adoption. She never stopped loving you."

Emily stepped inside. "Tell me everything."

They told her everything. The swap. The trust. The letters. The stars. The yellow room. Emily listened without interrupting. When they finished, she said, "I always knew I was adopted. I always wondered about my birth mother. But I never imagined this."

"She never stopped loving you," Margaret said.

Emily touched the photograph of Clara. "I can see it in her eyes."

The family returned to the cottage. Emily came with them. She walked through the garden, touched the dogwoods, stood in the yellow room. She looked at the stars and cried.

"She made these," she whispered.

"She started them," Damian said. "We finished them."

Emily added a star to the ceiling. Silver, small, near Clara's. She wrote a single word: Found.

"I found her," she said. "I found my mother."

The family stood together, the stars glowing above them. The yellow room was full. The family was complete.