Chapter 2

I thought of that low, run-down little grave, and my chest went so tight I couldn't breathe.

Impossible—absolutely impossible!

I couldn't hold back any longer and rushed straight out to demand an answer.

"What do you mean, making my son call you 'Mom'?"

A flustered look crossed Yvette's face, and she instinctively glanced at Louis.

"Louis…"

Louis hadn't expected me to come over. A flicker of panic crossed his handsome face, and he immediately put distance between himself and Yvette.

"Roberta, it's a misunderstanding. Calm down."

Only then did I realize my whole body had been shaking.

I looked at the man I had loved for six years, and tears rolled down my face before I could stop them.

"Yvette said Harry is your child."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Louis's mother hurried in to smooth things over.

"Listen to yourself. You're a daughter-in-law of the Lyons family, but haven't I always loved you like my own daughter?"

"Your sister-in-law lost her own baby so early that she can't help treating Harry as her own. That's all it was—a slip of the tongue."

The baby's protective locket dug into my palm, itching and aching.

I steadied my emotions and turned to Louis.

"Is what your mother said true?"

Louis pressed his lips together, his eyes evasive.

"Of course."

"Every year when she visits the grave, your sister-in-law thinks of the child she lost. I only had Harry call her Mom to comfort her."

Then he changed the subject.

"Weren't you going home to visit the family grave on Memorial Day? What are you doing here?"

Louis had a habit of instinctively changing the subject whenever he lied.

A chill went through me.

He really was lying to me.

So I simply went along with what he said.

"I keep having nightmares these last few days. I dream of a child with a face all bruised blue and purple, crying out 'Mom' at me. A master told me to come check your family cemetery, to see if there's something wrong with the feng shui."

The moment I said it, all three of their faces changed.

Louis's mother most of all.

She raised her voice.

"That's all feudal superstition! It must be that your father-in-law was upset you never came to visit the grave, so he sent you a dream to hurry you along!"

Her words plainly contradicted themselves.

One moment it was feudal superstition, the next it was a dream from the dead.

I didn't pick at it. I only looked at Louis and Yvette.

"I hear that when a child dies young, you're supposed to hold a memorial rite to help them pass on. Could it be that your sister-in-law never held the rite back then, and the child—seeing how much you dote on Harry—was unhappy and came looking for me?"

Yvette clutched Harry tightly and shuddered all over.

"Yvette, what you're saying is too frightening."

"She was just a baby girl who died young. She didn't even have a name yet. How could she come back to cause trouble? You must have been too worn out lately."

Louis instinctively stepped in front of her, his eyes toward me faintly displeased.

"This is a modern society. Stop talking about all these spooky, scary things—Harry is right here."

The next second, Harry threw his arms tightly around Yvette's neck.

He looked at me pitifully.

"Mom, I'm scared."

Louis's mother wiped the cold sweat from her brow and reached out to pull me along.

"Come on, no more of this frightening talk. Let me show you the graves. Six years married, and this is the first time you've come home to visit the family grave—Louis always says you're too busy."