“I didn’t have anyone else,” I said. “That name was attached to the scholarship that paid for school. I thought… if anything ever happened to me, at least someone with my last name might be contacted.”
Dr. Chen’s face drained of color.
“You didn’t know?”
“Know what?”
He set the clipboard down and dragged a hand through his hair.
“Evelyn, Dr. William Harrison is the former chief of surgery at this hospital. He trained me. He trained half the surgeons in this state.”
I blinked.
“Okay.”
“He’s also your grandfather.”
The room tilted.
“That’s impossible. My grandfather is dead. He died before I was born.”
Dr. Chen shook his head slowly.
“No. He’s alive. Very much alive. And he’s on his way here.”
I could not get enough air into my lungs.
“I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I,” he said. “But twenty-five years ago, he told everyone his granddaughter had died. He grieved for you. He created scholarships in your name. He spoke about you like you were a ghost.”
“But I’m not—”
“I know.”
His voice cracked on the words.
“Someone lied to him. Someone told him you were dead. And someone told you he was.”
The door opened.
A man walked in.
Seventy-eight years old. Tall. White hair. Surgeon’s hands. He wore a coat thrown on in haste, wrinkled like he had dressed while running.
He stopped at the foot of my bed.
His eyes found mine.
And he began to cry.
“Evelyn,” he whispered, and his voice broke apart around my name. “My Evelyn.”
I stared at him.
This stranger.
This ghost.
“Who are you?”
He stepped closer, slowly, as if he feared I might vanish if he moved too fast.
“I’m your grandfather,” he said through tears. “Your real grandfather. William Harrison.”
“My grandfather is dead.”
“That,” he said, sinking into the chair beside me, “is what they told you. It’s also what they told me about you twenty-five years ago.”
My mind snagged on the words.
He took my hand.
“Robert said you died. He said you died with your parents in that accident.”
“My parents?”
“Daniel and Sarah.”
His voice shattered.
“Your real parents. My son. My beautiful boy.”
The room spun.
Daniel and Sarah.
Not Robert and Sandra.
“I don’t understand.”
He held my hand so gently it hurt more than anything else had.
“Robert is not your father, Evelyn. He is your uncle. Daniel was your father. My firstborn.”
My thoughts fractured around the words.
Uncle.
Father.
Accident.
