Chapter 4: The Voice From the Past
For several seconds, I forgot how to breathe.
The woman on the phone didn’t speak again.
Neither did I.
I just stood there, frozen in Aunt Diane’s kitchen, holding a phone that should not have been ringing.
A phone number that belonged to a woman who had been dead for twenty years.
A woman whose face I remembered only through photographs.
A woman whose perfume I could still somehow imagine when I closed my eyes.
My mother.
“Jasmine?””
The voice came again.
Older.
Softer.
But familiar.
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“Who is this?””
Aunt Diane moved toward me.
“Hang up.””
I looked at her.
The fear in her eyes was impossible to ignore.
Not confusion.
Not surprise.
Fear.
The woman on the phone heard her.
“Diane is there, isn’t she?””
My entire body went cold.
The voice knew.
“She’s there.””
I looked at Aunt Diane.
She stepped back.
“Don’t listen to this.””
The woman on the phone let out a shaky breath.
“Jasmine, I know this is impossible.””
I couldn’t speak.
“I know you think I’m dead.””
My eyes filled instantly.
“No.””
The word came out as a whisper.
The woman paused.
“I know what Diane told you.””
Aunt Diane’s face changed.
“Jasmine, please.””
I turned away from her.
The room felt like it was closing in.
“Who are you?””
The woman on the phone was silent for a moment.
Then she said:
“My name is Rebecca.””
My heart broke.
Because that was my mother’s name.
“No.””
“I know this is hard.””
“No.””
I shook my head.
“No, my mother died.””
The woman’s voice cracked.
“I know.””
“You can’t be her.””
“I know what happened that night.””
I looked at Aunt Diane.
She looked like she had seen a ghost.
Maybe she had.
“What night?””
The woman breathed in slowly.
“The night everyone told you I died.””
The kitchen went silent.
Even the refrigerator humming in the corner seemed to disappear.
I sat down.
My legs couldn’t hold me anymore.
“What are you saying?””
“I’m saying I didn’t die that night.””
My hand covered my mouth.
“No.””
“I’m saying someone wanted you to believe I did.””
Aunt Diane grabbed the edge of the table.
“Jasmine, hang up.””
I looked at her.
“Why?””
She didn’t answer.
That was the answer.
“Why should I hang up?””
Her eyes filled.
“Because you don’t know who that is.””
The woman on the phone laughed sadly.
“Diane, after all these years, you’re still protecting the wrong people.””
Aunt Diane flinched.
That hurt more than anything.
Because it meant they knew each other.
Not just knew each other.
They had history.
“Who are you?”” I asked again.
“My name is Rebecca.””
“That’s not enough.””
A pause.
Then:
“I was your mother.””
My vision blurred.
A million memories crashed together.
A birthday cake.
A yellow sweater.
A bedtime story.
A hospital room.
A funeral.
Except now I didn’t know which memories were real.
“What happened?””
The woman breathed shakily.
“I don’t have much time.””
“Then tell me.””
“Jasmine—”
“No.””
My voice broke.
“I spent twenty years thinking you were gone.””
Silence.
Then she whispered:
“I know.””
“Every birthday.””
“I know.””
“Every Christmas.””
“I know.””
“I stood at your grave.””
The silence that followed was unbearable.
Finally, she said:
“I know.””
And somehow those two words hurt more than anger would have.
Because she knew.
She knew.
And she wasn’t there.
“Why?””
The question came out small.
Like I was sixteen again.
Like I was a child asking why someone left.
“I was trying to protect you.””
I laughed.
A broken, bitter sound.
“Protect me?””
“Yes.””
“You let me believe you were dead.””
“I had no choice.””
“Everyone has a choice.””
The woman on the phone started crying.
“I thought I would have time.””
“For what?””
“To come back.””
I wiped my face.
“But you didn’t.””
“No.””
“Why?””
She was silent.
Then:
“Because Daniel found the letter.””
My entire body went still.
“What letter?””
The one on the kitchen table.
The one from my mother.
The one Aunt Diane had hidden for three months.
My eyes moved toward it.
The woman continued.
“The letter I left for you.””
I picked it up.
My hands shook.
“You wrote this?””
“Yes.””
“Why did Daniel have it?””
“He shouldn’t have.””
My stomach tightened.
“What does Daniel have to do with you?””
Another silence.
And this one was different.
Like she was afraid of the answer.
“Jasmine…”
“What?””
“Your husband isn’t looking for answers.””
I stared at the phone.
“Then what is he looking for?””
“He’s looking for proof.””
“Proof of what?””
The woman’s voice dropped.
“That Noah is not the only thing he lost.””
I frowned.
“What does that mean?””
Before she could answer, the phone crackled.
Static filled my ear.
“Hello?””
No response.
“Hello?””
Then I heard a sound.
A door opening.
Not on my end.
On hers.
The woman whispered:
“Oh no.””
My heart raced.
“What happened?””
“Jasmine, listen to me carefully.””
Her voice changed.
Urgent.
“Do not go to Maple Street.””
I looked at Aunt Diane.
Too late.
“I was already going.””
“No.””
The panic in her voice scared me.
“Do not go there.””
“Why?””
“Because Daniel isn’t alone.””
The line crackled again.
“Who is with him?””
No answer.
Then, very quietly:
“Someone who was supposed to be dead.””
The call ended.
I stared at my phone.
The screen went dark.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then Aunt Diane sat down.
She looked older than she had five minutes ago.
“What did she tell you?””
I looked at her.
“You knew.””
Her face tightened.
“Jasmine—”
“You knew she was alive.””
“No.””
“You knew something.””
She looked away.
That was enough.
“You let me bury my mother.””
Tears filled her eyes.
“I was trying to protect you.””
“Everyone keeps saying that.””
My voice shook.
“Everyone keeps making decisions for me.””
Aunt Diane stood.
“I was sixteen years old when your mother disappeared.””
I froze.
“What?””
“She didn’t die.””
The words landed heavily.
“She disappeared.””
I stared at her.
“Then why did you tell me she died?””
Aunt Diane looked destroyed.
“Because that’s what your mother wanted.””
I shook my head.
“No.””
“She made me promise.””
“No.””
“She said if anyone knew she was alive, you would be in danger.””
“Danger from who?””
Aunt Diane didn’t answer.
I stepped closer.
“Who?””
Her lips trembled.
“Jasmine, your mother was involved with something before she disappeared.””
“What?””
“She found out something she wasn’t supposed to know.””
“What?””
Aunt Diane looked toward the envelope.
Then back at me.
“About your father.””
I went still.
My father.
A man I barely remembered.
A man who died when I was young.
“What about him?””
Aunt Diane’s voice dropped.
“Your father didn’t die in an accident.””
The room spun.
“What?””
“He was killed.””
I couldn’t move.
“No.””
“I’m sorry.””
“No.””
I shook my head.
“My mother told me he fell asleep while driving.””
“That’s what everyone was told.””
“Who?””
Aunt Diane looked at the front window.
The street outside was dark.
Empty.
But suddenly it didn’t feel empty anymore.
“People who wanted the truth buried.””
My phone buzzed.
Both of us jumped.
A new message.
From Daniel.
I opened it.
Only three words.
*You talked to her.*
My blood ran cold.
I looked at Aunt Diane.
“How does he know?””
She didn’t answer.
Another message appeared.
*I told you not to involve anyone.*
Then a third.
*Now you’ll have to see what happens when secrets come home.*
I stared at the screen.
Aunt Diane slowly reached for my hand.
“Jasmine.””
“What?””
She looked terrified.
“Don’t go to Maple Street.””
I shook my head.
After everything I had heard tonight…
After twenty years of lies…
After discovering my mother might be alive…
There was only one thing I knew.
I needed answers.
“I have to.””
Aunt Diane grabbed my arm.
“No.””
I looked at her.
“Why?””
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“Because Maple Street isn’t where Daniel is waiting for you.””
My heart stopped.
“Then where is he?””
She looked toward the hallway.
Toward my sleeping children.
May you like
And whispered:
“He’s already here.””