The Little Girl Who Said Her Name Wasn't Lily

For several seconds, I couldn't move.

The paper trembled between my fingers, and the little girl pressed herself against my side as if she expected Brenda to attack again.

"That child was supposed to be dead.""

The words kept repeating inside my head.

I looked at Brenda.

"What did you just say?""

She blinked rapidly, as though she had suddenly realized she had spoken aloud.

"Nothing.""

"I heard you.""

"You heard wrong.""

I held up the paper.

"Who is Emma Grace Whitmore?""

Brenda's gaze flicked toward the street, then toward the front door.

She seemed to be calculating something.

That frightened me more than her screaming had.

"Claire, get in your car and take the child home," she said, forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"You're upset. I'm upset. We can discuss this when everyone has calmed down.""

"No.""

Her smile vanished.

"What do you mean, no?""

"I mean I'm not leaving until you explain why this little girl says her name is Emma, why she says you're a stranger, and why you just told me she was supposed to be dead.""

Brenda glanced at the girl.

"She's confused. I've already explained that.""

"Then you won't mind if I call Daniel.""

The name struck her like a physical blow.

"Don't call your brother.""

I stared at her.

"Why not?""

"Because he'll panic, and we don't need that right now.""

"He's her father.""

"Exactly. And he has enough problems without you feeding him some ridiculous fantasy.""

The girl suddenly gripped my hand.

"Please call him," she whispered.

Brenda's head snapped toward her.

"Be quiet!""

The child flinched so violently that I felt it in my own arm.

Something inside me hardened.

I pulled out my phone.

Brenda took another step forward.

"Claire, I'm warning you.""

"And I'm warning you to stay away from us.""

I dialed Daniel's number.

It rang twice.

"Hey, Claire," he answered, sounding distracted.

"Everything okay? Is Lily ready?""

I looked down at the child.

Her small face had gone pale.

"Daniel, I need you to listen to me carefully.""

"What happened?""

"I'm at Brenda's house. I'm taking a little girl with me, but I need you to answer a question first.""

A pause.

"Okay.""

"Where is Lily?""

Silence.

Then Daniel laughed uncertainly.

"What kind of question is that? She's with Brenda, isn't she?""

"Daniel, I'm looking at a little girl who looks exactly like Lily, but she says her name is Emma Grace Whitmore.""

The silence that followed was so complete that I checked whether the call had disconnected.

Finally, my brother spoke.

"Put Brenda on the phone.""

"No.""

"Claire, put her on the phone right now.""

His voice had changed.

I had heard Daniel angry before. I had heard him frightened when his wife died, exhausted when Lily was sick, and furious when someone tried to cheat him at work.

But I had never heard him sound like this.

He sounded as though he had just heard a gunshot in the next room.

"Daniel, what aren't you telling me?""

"Get away from Brenda's house.""

"Why?""

"Because I need you to do exactly what I'm saying. Take the child and leave. Don't stop anywhere.

Don't talk to Brenda. Don't let her get near you.""

I stared at my phone.

"How do you know this child is in danger?""

He didn't answer.

"Daniel!""

"I'll explain when you get here.""

"Where is Lily?""

Another silence.

Then he said, very quietly, "I don't know.""

The words made my knees weak.

"What do you mean you don't know?""

"I mean I don't know where my daughter is.""

Brenda had gone completely still.

I watched her as Daniel continued speaking.

"I dropped Lily at Brenda's house yesterday afternoon. She was supposed to spend the night there while I handled a work emergency. Brenda called me at six this morning and said Lily was asleep. Then, twenty minutes ago, she called again and said Lily had been acting strangely.""

I tightened my grip on the phone.

"What exactly did she say?""

"She said Lily was claiming to be another child. She said she thought Lily might have hit her head or been given something she shouldn't have taken.""

I looked at the little girl beside me.

Her eyes filled with tears.

"Daniel, this child says her name is Emma.""

"I know.""

The answer was barely audible.

I stopped breathing.

"You know?""

"Claire, please. Just get in your car and come home.""

"Not until you tell me what's happening.""

He exhaled shakily.

"There's something I should have told you years ago.""

Before he could continue, Brenda lunged toward the phone.

I stepped away.

"Give me that!"" she screamed.

The little girl shrieked and grabbed my coat.

I shoved the phone into my pocket and backed toward my car.

"Brenda, stay where you are.""

"You have no idea what you're doing!""

"Then explain it!""

She stared at me with an expression I couldn't recognize.

"You think you're saving that child?"" she whispered.

"You have no idea what happens if she leaves this house.""

I opened the passenger door and helped the girl inside.

Brenda rushed down the walkway.

I slammed the door and locked it.

She struck the window with her palm.

"Claire! Don't take her!""

I ran around to the driver's side, climbed in, and started the engine.

Brenda stood directly in front of the car.

For one terrible moment, I thought she might refuse to move.

Then she stepped aside.

Not because she had changed her mind.

Because she had realized something.

She was watching the little girl through the windshield.

And she was smiling.

It was a small, cold smile that had no place on a human face.

"Go ahead," she called through the glass.

"Take her home.""

I drove away before she could change her mind.

The girl sat curled against the passenger door, staring at the passing houses.

I kept checking the rearview mirror, half expecting Brenda's car to appear behind us.

After three blocks, I pulled into a quiet parking lot beside a closed pharmacy.

I turned toward the girl.

"My name is Claire Bennett," I said gently.

"Your name is Emma Grace Whitmore. Is that right?""

She nodded.

"Can you tell me what happened last night?""

She stared down at her torn sleeve.

"I woke up in a room I didn't know.""

"What room?""

"A bedroom with blue curtains. There were pictures on the walls. Pictures of a woman who looked like me.""

My heart thudded against my ribs.

"Did you recognize the woman?""

"Not at first.""

She rubbed her eyes.

"But there was a little box on the dresser. Inside it was a picture of me when I was a baby. And underneath the picture was a paper with my name on it.""

I swallowed.

"What happened next?""

"I went downstairs. The lady was in the kitchen. I asked her where my mommy was.""

The girl began crying again.

"She said my mommy was dead. Then she called me Lily.""

I felt sick.

"What did you tell her?""

"I told her my name was Emma. She got really mad. She said I was confused and that I needed to stop making things up.""

She looked at me desperately.

"But I knew my name. I knew my mommy's name, too.""

"What was your mother's name?""

"Rebecca.""

I closed my eyes for a moment.

Rebecca.

I didn't know an Emma Whitmore. I didn't know a Rebecca Whitmore.

But I knew the name on the paper.

And I knew Brenda had recognized it.

"How did you find the note?""

"There was a drawer in the bedroom. It was locked, but the key was under the lamp. I opened it because I was looking for my shoes.""

She took a shaky breath.

"Inside was a photograph and a letter. The letter said that if I ever woke up somewhere strange, I should find you.""

She reached into her pocket again and pulled out something else.

A small photograph.

I took it carefully.

It showed a young woman standing in front of a hospital, holding a newborn baby wrapped in a yellow blanket.

The woman had dark hair, soft brown eyes, and a tiny scar near her chin.

I knew that face.

I had seen it once before.

Not in person.

In a photograph my brother kept locked in the bottom drawer of his desk.

The woman was Rebecca Whitmore.

And the baby in her arms wore a hospital bracelet bearing a name I could just make out.

*Emma Grace Whitmore.*

I turned the photograph over.

On the back, someone had written a date.

It was the date of Lily's birth.

My hands began to shake.

There was something else written beneath it.

A short message in Daniel's handwriting.

*Claire, if you ever find this, don't trust Brenda.*

I stared at the words until they blurred.

Then my phone rang.

Daniel.

I answered immediately.

"Daniel, I found a photograph.""

"Where are you?""

"At the pharmacy parking lot. I need you to tell me what happened the day Lily was born.""

He didn't speak.

"Daniel, I know you recognize the name Emma Whitmore.""

A long, ragged breath came through the speaker.

"Claire," he said, "listen to me. Whatever Brenda told you, whatever you think you know, don't let that child near a hospital until I get there.""

"Why?""

"Because the records were changed.""

My mouth went dry.

"What records?""

"The birth records.""

I looked at the little girl sitting beside me.

She had gone completely still.

Daniel continued, his voice breaking.

"Emma was born two days before Lily. Their mothers were in the same hospital. Rebecca Whitmore died that night, and Brenda was working there as a temporary nursing assistant.""

I felt the air leave my lungs.

"What are you saying?""

"I'm saying that eight years ago, someone switched two newborn babies.""

The little girl began to sob.

I reached for her hand.