PART 2 \u2014 THE SECRET IN THE BLUE BLANKET
\nFor several seconds, I couldn’t move.
\nGreg was still kneeling beneath the porch light, digging into the flower bed with one hand while holding that blue bundle against his chest with the other.
\nMy first thought was so terrible that I immediately tried to push it away.
\nNo.
\nAbsolutely not.
\nBut then the bundle moved.
\nJust slightly.
\nMy hand flew to my mouth.
\nSomething was alive inside that blanket.
\nI unlocked the back door.
\n“Greg?”
\nThe shovel stopped.
\nHis entire body went rigid.
\nHe didn’t turn around.
\n“Greg, what are you doing?”
\nSlowly, my husband looked over his shoulder.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I had known that face for thirty-four years.
\nI had seen Greg angry.
\nTerrified.
\nGrieving.
\nOverjoyed.
\nBut I had never seen him look the way he did at that moment.
\nHe looked caught.
\n“Laura,” he whispered.
\n“What are you holding?”
\nHe immediately pulled the bundle closer to his chest.
\nThat frightened me more than anything.
\nI stepped onto the porch.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
“Show me.”
\n“Go back inside.”
\nI stared at him.
\n“What?”
\n“Please.”
\nHis voice cracked.
\n“Just go back upstairs.”
\nI almost laughed because the request was so ridiculous.
\nMy husband had been secretly leaving our bed for weeks.
\nHe had lied about sleeping in the guest room.
\nHe had taken our son’s baby blanket.
\nHe had called something “sweetheart.”
\nHe had called himself Daddy.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
And now he was digging a hole in our backyard at two in the morning.
\nI wasn’t going anywhere.
\n“Open the blanket.”
\nGreg lowered his eyes.
\n“Laura\u2014”
\n“Open it.”
\nThe bundle moved again.
\nThen I heard it.
\nA tiny whimper.
\nNot a baby’s cry.
\nSomething softer.
\nWeaker.
\nGreg closed his eyes.
\nAnd suddenly I understood.
\nI walked down the porch steps.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
He didn’t stop me this time.
\nWhen I reached him, I slowly pulled back one corner of the blue blanket.
\nTwo enormous brown eyes looked up at me.
\nI froze.
\nIt was a puppy.
\nA tiny golden-colored puppy.
\nShe couldn’t have been more than a few weeks old.
\nOne of her front legs was wrapped in a small white bandage.
\nShe was trembling against Greg’s chest.
\nFor a moment, relief hit me so hard my knees nearly buckled.
\nThen confusion replaced it.
\n“A dog?”
\nGreg said nothing.
\n“You’ve been sneaking downstairs every night because of a puppy?”
\nHe swallowed.
\n“Keep your voice down.”
\nI stared at him.
\n“Why?”
\nHis eyes immediately shifted toward the house next door.
\nThat was when I noticed something else.
\nOur back gate was open.
\nGreg never left that gate open.
\nNever.
\n“What is going on?”
\nHe looked toward the fence again.
\n“She isn’t mine.”
\n“Then whose is she?”
\nGreg hesitated.
\n“Technically?”
\nMy stomach tightened.
\n“Technically?”
\nHe looked down at the puppy.
\n“She belongs to someone who shouldn’t have her.”
\nBefore I could ask another question, headlights swept across the fence.
\nGreg’s face changed instantly.
\nHe stood.
\n“Inside.”
\n“What?”
\n“Laura, get inside.”
\nA vehicle had stopped somewhere near the front of our house.
\nA car door slammed.
\nThen another.
\nGreg shoved the little shovel behind the hydrangeas.
\nHe handed me the puppy.
\n“Take her.”
\nI automatically wrapped my arms around her.
\nShe was unbelievably light.
\n“Greg\u2014”
\n“Guest room.”
\n“What?”
\n“Put her in the guest room and close the curtains.”
\nThere was urgency in his voice that made me obey before my brain caught up.
\nI hurried inside.
\nThe puppy pressed her face against my chest.
\nWhen I entered the guest room, everything suddenly made sense.
\nThere was a small dog bed beside the dresser.
\nA water bowl.
\nPuppy food.
\nMedicine.
\nOld towels.
\nAnd beside the bed sat the rocking chair I’d seen moving.
\nGreg hadn’t been sleeping down here because of his back.
\nHe had been taking care of her.
\nBut why secretly?
\nI placed the puppy carefully on the bed.
\nThat’s when I noticed the envelope.
\nIt was lying beneath the lamp.
\nMy name was written across the front.
\nLAURA.
\nI reached for it.
\nBefore I could open it, someone pounded on our front door.
\nThree hard knocks.
\nBANG.
\nBANG.
\nBANG.
\nThe puppy immediately began shaking.
\nI heard Greg moving through the hallway.
\nThen a man’s voice came through the door.
\n“Greg!”
\nI didn’t recognize it.
\n“Open the door!”
\nGreg answered without opening it.
\n“It’s two in the morning.”
\n“I know you’ve got her.”
\nMy blood went cold.
\nThe puppy crawled beneath the blue blanket.
\nThe man pounded again.
\n“You can’t hide her forever.”
\nI quietly stepped into the hallway.
\nGreg saw me.
\nFor the briefest second, fear crossed his face.
\nNot fear for himself.
\nFear for me.
\nHe pointed silently toward the guest room.
\nGo back.
\nI didn’t.
\n“Who is that?” I whispered.
\nGreg shook his head.
\nThe man outside heard me.
\nThere was silence.
\nThen he said something that made my stomach twist.
\n“So Laura doesn’t know?”
\nGreg’s jaw tightened.
\n“Leave my wife out of this.”
\nThe man laughed.
\n“You already brought her into it.”
\nI walked toward the front door.
\nGreg blocked me.
\n“Don’t.”
\n“Who is he?”
\n“I’ll explain.”
\n“When?”
\n“After he leaves.”
\nThe stranger knocked again.
\nThis time softer.
\nAlmost casually.
\n“Tell Laura to ask you where you were three weeks ago on Tuesday night.”
\nI looked at Greg.
\nHis face went pale.
\n“What’s he talking about?”
\n“Nothing.”
\nThe stranger laughed again.
\n“Ask him.”
\nGreg suddenly unlocked the door and stepped outside, pulling it shut behind him.
\nI rushed toward the window.
\nTwo men were standing on our porch.
\nOne was tall and broad, probably in his forties.
\nThe other remained near a dark pickup parked at the curb.
\nI couldn’t hear everything.
\nBut I heard enough.
\n“…police…”
\n“…not your decision…”
\n“…she saw you…”
\nThen Greg said something.
\nThe tall man stepped closer.
\nAnd punched my husband in the face.
\nI screamed.
\nGreg stumbled backward.
\nI threw open the door.
\n“Get away from him!”
\nThe man turned toward me.
\nThere was something cold in his expression.
\n“You must be Laura.”
\n“Get off my property.”
\nHe wiped his knuckles against his jacket.
\n“Ask your husband what he stole.”
\nGreg grabbed my arm.
\n“Inside.”
\nThe man smiled.
\n“Or better yet, ask him who called him Daddy.”
\nMy heart stopped.
\nGreg’s grip tightened.
\nThe stranger walked toward the truck.
\nBefore climbing inside, he looked back at us.
\n“You’ve got until tomorrow night.”
\nThen they drove away.
\nI stood beneath the porch light staring at my husband.
\nBlood was running from his lip.
\n“Start talking.”
\nGreg wiped his mouth.
\n“I was trying to protect you.”
\n“From what?”
\nHe didn’t answer.
\nI pointed toward the guest room.
\n“You lied to me for weeks.”
\n“I know.”
\n“You stole Michael’s blanket.”
\n“I borrowed it.”
\n“You’ve been sneaking around our house in the middle of the night.”
\n“I know.”
\n“And some stranger just punched you on our porch because you apparently stole something.”
\nGreg looked exhausted.
\n“Laura\u2014”
\n“No.”
\nMy voice shook.
\n“Who called you Daddy?”
\nHis expression changed.
\nAnd suddenly I knew the puppy wasn’t the whole secret.
\n“Greg.”
\nHe looked toward the staircase.
\nThen back at me.
\n“I need to show you something.”
\nHe walked into the guest room.
\nThe puppy lifted her head when she saw him.
\nGreg sat beside her and gently stroked her ear.
\nThen he reached beneath the mattress.
\nHe pulled out a photograph.
\nIt was old.
\nMaybe thirty years old.
\nHe handed it to me.
\nI looked down.
\nAnd my entire body went cold.
\nGreg was in the photograph.
\nHe looked about twenty-five.
\nStanding beside him was a young woman I had never seen before.
\nShe was holding a newborn baby.
\nOn the back of the photograph, someone had written three words.
\nGREG AND HIS DAUGHTER.
\nI stared at those words until they blurred.
\n“No.”
\nGreg didn’t speak.
\n“No.”
\n“Laura\u2014”
\n“We had been married five years when you were twenty-five.”
\n“I know.”
\nI dropped the photograph onto the bed.
\n“You have another daughter?”
\nGreg covered his face with both hands.
\nI felt like the room was spinning.
\n“Thirty-one years.”
\nMy voice came out barely above a whisper.
\n“Thirty-one years, Greg.”
\n“It’s not what you think.”
\n“Then what am I supposed to think?”
\nHe looked at me.
\n“There was never another woman.”
\nI pointed at the photograph.
\n“She’s standing right there!”
\n“Her name was Rebecca.”
\nWas.
\nThat single word caught me.
\n“Was?”
\nGreg’s eyes filled with tears.
\n“Rebecca died three weeks ago.”
\nThe anger inside me suddenly collided with something else.
\nConfusion.
\n“Who was she?”
\nGreg stared at the floor.
\n“My sister.”
\nI blinked.
\n“Your what?”
\n“My half-sister.”
\nGreg had always told me he was an only child.
\nBefore I could speak, he continued.
\n“My father had another family before he met my mother. Rebecca contacted me when I was twenty-four. My parents begged me never to tell anyone.”
\nI looked at the photograph again.
\n“Then why does this say ‘Greg and his daughter’?”
\n“Because Rebecca wrote it.”
\n“Why?”
\nGreg didn’t answer.
\nThe puppy suddenly whimpered.
\nGreg stroked her gently.
\nThen he said, “Rebecca had a daughter named Claire.”
\nMy heartbeat quickened.
\n“Where is Claire?”
\n“She’s thirty now.”
\nThe same age as Michael.
\nGreg nodded.
\n“And three weeks ago, she called me.”
\n“Why?”
\nHis eyes lifted to mine.
\n“Because Rebecca was dying.”
\nI waited.
\nGreg’s voice dropped.
\n“She wanted me to finally tell Claire the truth.”
\n“What truth?”
\nBefore he could answer, something tapped against the guest-room window.
\nGreg immediately stood.
\nTap.
\nTap.
\nTap.
\nWe both turned.
\nThere was nobody outside.
\nThen we noticed what had struck the glass.
\nA small white envelope lay on the ground beneath the window.
\nGreg rushed outside and picked it up.
\nThere was no stamp.
\nNo address.
\nSomeone had walked into our backyard and placed it there.
\nHe opened it.
\nInside was a single sheet of paper.
\nGreg read it.
\nHis face went completely white.
\n“What does it say?”
\nHe didn’t answer.
\nI ripped the paper from his hand.
\nThere were only two sentences.
\nYOU SHOULD HAVE LEFT THE PAST BURIED.
\nNOW LAURA GETS TO KNOW WHAT YOU DID TO HER SON.
\nI stopped breathing.
\n“My son?”
\nGreg looked at me.
\nNot our son.
\nMy son.
\n“Greg…”
\nHe backed away.
\nAnd that was when I realized the hole in the flower bed hadn’t been meant for the puppy at all.
\nSomething was already buried there.
\nSomething my husband had hidden for thirty years.
\nAnd whatever it was, it had something to do with Michael……………………<\/p>\n
PART 2 \u2014 THE SECRET IN THE BLUE BLANKET For several seconds, I couldn’t move. Greg was still kneeling beneath the porch light, digging into the flower bed with one … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":5199,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-7017","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7017","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=7017"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7017\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7024,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7017\/revisions\/7024"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/5199"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=7017"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=7017"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=7017"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}