Chapter 60 she is not my mother

"Please tell me why you hate your mother," Dr. Veletz asked kindly. Claire Tarrant pursed her lips.She felt that the word "disgust" was inappropriate. But Aunt Lucy evidently used the word.Lovely, overwhelmed aunt. She could imagine her saying: "Doctor, her father and I can't understand why. She's always been very reasonable, but when everyone is very happy, she suddenly hates her mother!" She still remembers her handsome father frowning when her aunt suggested seeing a psychologist.Everyone said Claire looked like her father, with the same dark eyes, the same curly hair and tawny skin.

She was tall and reached his shoulders. Usually, when she thinks of her father, her heart is filled with joy, but today, this joy has disappeared.She knew she had hurt him and felt bad.She only agreed to such a waste of time because she loved Aunt Lucy so much.She had no doubts that it was a waste of time because she knew she was right.She was only twelve years old, in a white blouse and a small skirt, but, because of her preoccupations, she looked much older than she was. Dr. Veletz's voice broke her thoughts. "Start anywhere, Claire, start anywhere. Tell me about your childhood."

"I remember when we were living in San Francisco," she hesitated. What could she say that Aunt Lucy hadn't told him?At this time, she saw his encouraging smile, so she went on: "My mother and father met in San Francisco and got married there." She said that her father worked for a large company, and the company kept transferring him from one factory to another.Finally, he managed to get the company to send him to a small town near Boston in the east.It was there that he and Aunt Lucy had grown up, and Lucy was fifteen years older than her father, and she had brought up her brother when their parents died.

"You're very much like him," Aunt Lucy said to her once. "Your father never acted like a child. Since Carter was two years old, he has been much smarter than his peers, and he has always been impatient. By the time he goes to school, he will be a grown-up." She smiled slightly at the little girl. smile. "You are a lot like him, but you have more self-control than him." She had to learn to control herself.Time passed so slowly, she was already getting impatient.She had to live with it, because even Aunt Lucy hoped it was just a childish state of mind.Then she said loudly: "The only ones left in the Tarrant family are Dad, Aunt Lucy and I. After her uncle died, Mother was left alone, so both she and Dad wanted to go back to the East, Live with Aunt Lucy."

"Go on," the doctor said in a low voice.She really wanted to know what he was thinking.Not because it matters, whatever he thinks or says, doesn't matter.But she wondered what Aunt Lucy had told him.Didn't she say that Claire's IQ is the highest of all the schools she has attended, and she is currently studying in the child prodigy class? If he knew this, then he would not suspect that she did it for the attention of others, he would not be as convinced as her father. The doctor was urging her to continue, and she heard the word "car accident". "Yes, it was a horrible car accident," Claire said. "Dad and I are lucky.

We were thrown out.I was only five years old, but I remember we both had only minor injuries. "She stopped for a moment." But the people in the other car died instantly, a young couple. " "That was when your parents took you East?" "Yeah, at that time my dad moved jobs. The accident happened in a small town in Ohio." "Where's your mother?" He must have thought she was afraid to talk about these things, but it had been seven years since the car accident, and she was used to it because she often thought of it. "My mother was dug out of the wreckage of the car and survived after several weeks of salvage." She thought of the long weeks of the first year.Her father spent most of that time in a hospital hundreds of miles away.She remembers feeling very lonely.

"Her looks are all ruined," she said suddenly. Dr. Veletz asked in a low voice: "Aren't you uncomfortable seeing her disfigured?" not comfortable?Frankly, maybe it was uncomfortable at first, but it was her own mother!Besides, she knew that after a few years everything would be all right. For the first year, she was very happy, even though her father and mother were not around.Of course, Aunt Lucy did her best to make her life happy. Her father's company temporarily sent him to work in Ohio, near her mother's hospital.Occasionally her father left her mother, Della, to visit them, but it was always fleeting.

"When my mother came home from the hospital, my father rented a house next to Aunt Lucy's. After that, whenever my mother needed treatment or rest, my father would send me to my aunt.often like that.So, lo and behold, I actually have two homes. " She has two homes.In one home, the father devoted himself to the care of a ghostly woman who moved silently about the house, unable to leave her husband for a moment, and whose curtains were almost always drawn to keep out the outside world. sunshine.The other home was her father's for Claire to go to, and Claire liked her aunt's very much.

"How did you feel knowing your mother was going away for another year?" the doctor asked. "I'm so happy. The car accident changed her completely. I'm not just talking about her looks, but her whole demeanor. She used to be bright and happy. We all know that when my mother turned thirty-five , will be able to inherit her uncle's estate, that is last year—that is, six years after the car accident." She took a deep breath and continued. “I knew that with the plastic surgery, her face would be back to normal. Dad explained to me in detail what it meant to her. So, naturally, when she left home for the plastic surgery, we were very concerned. Happy, though she will be away from home for a long time."

Veletz asked thoughtfully: "Your father didn't plan to have any plastic surgery before inheriting the inheritance?" "There are more important things to do first," she replied quickly. "Learning to walk, learning to use her hands. Not just a skin graft. She's burned badly, and needs other medical treatment. Can't do it all at the same time." !" "Of course," he agreed. "All of this will take time." For some reason, she felt she needed to defend her father further. "Papa has spent all his money, and Aunt Lucy has very little." She looked at him.

"I think there might be insurance money," he said mildly. "Aunt Lucy said that little money won't help. Besides, although the couple were responsible for the car accident, they have no relatives, and Dad can't find anyone to borrow money." She took another deep breath. "It was great that my mother inherited that money, because plastic surgery is very expensive." She recalled the day she and Aunt Lucy waited for her parents to come back. "What a beautiful day that would have been! I was so happy when we heard the laughter when they walked in the door. We haven't heard my mother laugh since the accident, it's been a long, long time." She got up from the chair. "I promised my aunt to talk to you, and now I do, but to no avail. That woman is not my mother!" The next week, at the urging of her aunt, Claire returned to the hospital.The doctor listened to her again this time, and suggested, "Maybe you should try to see it from your father's point of view." "His angle?" Her voice was disturbed. "He thinks I'm jealous—jealous of my mother!" "You think he's totally wrong," it wasn't a question, and his voice was very gentle. She said: "I hadn't had a mother for seven years and I would be more than happy to have her back - my beautiful, happy, loving mother, don't you think so?" "Isn't she like this now?" She shook her head, feeling her stomach twitch. "I'm sorry, doctor. No matter what you say, you can't convince me she's my mother. We could go on and on like this, but it'll never come to anything." After a dozen visits to the doctor, still fruitless, Aunt Lucy told her that she could stop going to Dr. Veletz. Her father made a decision right away. Sitting motionless in the corner of Aunt Lucy's living room, Clare heard her father tell them that he was taking Della on a journey to the East. "Claire, when you come to your senses—" his handsome face twisted "—we'll be back. Your mother," he emphasized emphatically, "has had enough, she can't take it anymore.This is pure nonsense. " Then he suddenly had a fit. "God, girl, do you know how much you hurt her by doing that?" "Carter!" Lucy's voice was very sad. He stood up.He tried to soften his voice as he leaned over his daughter. "I forgot you were young, Claire." There was hysteria in his voice. "Clare, a husband has many ways of knowing--ways you don't understand now. But you must take my word for it, I know!" She sat there looking at him with an expressionless face, her stomach twitching. Aunt Lucy came over and said: "Give her a little more time, Carter. You and Della go on a trip. This may be the best way." "I hope so!" Carter looked at his sister irritably and suspiciously. "There's nothing I can do with her, I leave her to you!" He stepped out of the house, his tall lanky body rigid with frustration.Claire didn't try to block him.She was completely numb.Not because of her father's frustration, not because the trip was supposed to take her, but because there was nothing she could do.She was sure she was right. Her father's departure made her next move easier. Her aunt suggested taking her to a therapist, and her father reluctantly agreed, but he would never agree with Claire's next move.Aunt Lucy was taken aback at first, and when she finally agreed, it was evidently because she believed that doing so would completely dispel Clare's suspicions. At the last moment, Aunt Lucy offered to accompany her.This is typical Lucy style.She can let Claire go alone, and the police will probably treat her like a kid trying to grandstand and ignore her.Of course, Claire's plans would be ruined, but nothing would be solved. They were received by Chief of Police Costa, a burly middle-aged man who had never been married, for whom work was everything.His weather-beaten face was initially skeptical, but after hearing Aunt Lucy's concerns and Clare's assured statement, he became interested. He removed the cigar from his mouth, and said to Lucy, "She's very young, isn't she? Do you believe her?" Aunt Lucy blushed. "I don't believe it, but we have talked about it carefully. I only agree on one thing, and that is, maybe she can get help here. I believe that even if you don't want to get involved in this matter, you will keep it a secret for us." Then she Adding firmly, "Yes, she's very young, she's only twelve, but she's very mature. Her father is like that too. You know, that makes things difficult," she pleaded, " Maybe you can help her regain her peace of mind." The Chief watched her silently, then turned to Clare, pointing his cigar at her. "Okay. You said she went to the hospital for plastic surgery, and it took more than a year." His face became serious. "You didn't expect her to return home exactly as she was seven years ago, did you?" "Of course not," she replied patiently. "Dad told me that even if they had more pictures, they wouldn't be able to bring her back to the way she was before. I didn't expect that to happen." "You were only five years old. Can you remember her face clearly?" "Not very clear," she admitted. "Vague." "Then what's wrong with her?" Claire replied hesitantly: "Her eyes. I thought she was my mother when she came down the path. It was nice to hear her laugh so happily. She never smiled after the car accident." She paused.Her stomach started to hurt again. "When she looked at me, I saw her eyes, and that's when I knew it." Before Lucy could interject, she added hastily, "Yeah, I know, her eyes are the same as in the picture." The ones seemed alike, they were blue like my mother's - but they weren't! She wasn't my mother!" "How can you be so sure?" "We used to play a game," the stomachache eased. "We played that game pretty much non-stop. Mom and Dad would say the most ridiculous things and make up the most implausible stories with all seriousness.Sometimes it's just the two of them joking around, but mostly it's just to amuse me.The only way I could tell if they were joking or serious was to look them straight in the eye.In this way I can always tell if they are real or not. I am not only familiar with my mother's eyes, but also my father's eyes, no matter what they say, I can always tell them apart. " "Good," said the chief. "Let's assume you're right. You say your mother left home a year ago, accompanied by your father, to go to a New York City hospital for plastic surgery. Did you two visit her while she was in the hospital?" "Dad has been. He said Mom doesn't want to see anyone else until the plastic surgery is over. He's the only one she's willing to see." "He wants to see her once a week, but she doesn't agree," Lucy said. "You know, it all depends on her mood. Plus, the doctors don't want her to be bothered too much. Plastic surgery hurts, and sometimes, in order to improve her appearance, she has to make it a little worse first. " "If you're right," said the Commissioner sternly to Clare, "then your father was an accomplice. Do you agree with that?" "No!" she said. The chief put down his cigar dramatically. "Little girl, you said he took her to the hospital, you said he saw her almost every week, you said he took her home. Then tell me, who can hide her from him? " Claire shook her head. "She's not my mother," she said firmly. "Unless—" The chief stroked his thick chin thoughtfully. "Unless there's some kind of quick plastic surgery that changes her appearance overnight. Do you have a recent picture of her?" Aunt Lucy replied, "There are no after-accident pictures. Nobody would—" She stopped. Claire's eyes lit up. "Don't hospitals take photos and even leave fingerprints before and after surgery?" The chief watched her for a while. "Perhaps." Then he turned to Aunt Lucy. "Do you think it would do her any good if we did some research?" Aunt Lucy nodded. "I think it's good. We've tried other things. That's what you want, isn't it, dear?" As they got up to leave, the chief put his hand gently on the little girl's shoulder.There was sympathy in his downcast eyes. "Don't worry, girl, it may take a while, but I'm sure we'll find something for you." Her heart was filled with gratitude. "Maybe I can find some fingerprints," she said eagerly. "If I find it, can I bring it to you?" She saw the Chief turn slowly towards her aunt, who was about to protest, but seeing the expression on Clare's face shrugged helplessly and turned away. There were no clearly visible fingerprints on her father's house, all wiped away by their diligent cleaners.Officer Keller was in charge of the fingerprinting unit, and he patiently took fingerprints on things she brought.Some things she was sure her mother had touched, others she knew "that woman" had handled.Nothing but her own, Aunt Lucy's and the cleaning lady's fingerprints.Some fingerprints are too fuzzy to be of much use. As time passed, Claire's hopes gradually faded.Occasionally, she receives postcards from the Philippines, Japan, Hong Kong, and elsewhere.She threw away all guilt and stubbornly took the postcards to Officer Keller, even though he told her it was a waste of time.Too many people have touched these postcards, and there are no clear fingerprints on them. Sometimes, she would go to the police station if she had nothing to do.The officer would chat patiently with her, updating her on the latest theories and developments in fingerprinting. Every time Chief Costa saw her at the police station, he would say a few words to her.The kindness of the two policemen made her feel very warm, and she was able to wait patiently for the final result. The chief finally got a reply from the hospital in New York.He told Claire and her aunt, and it worked out as he expected. "The little girl should believe it now," he said enthusiastically, "this is solid evidence." He handed the photo to Claire. "The hospital sent these pictures. They don't normally take fingerprints, but they do a plastic surgery on her and they take a picture. If the first one is of her, then the rest must be too. There's no question about that. " Claire looked at the pictures carefully, then handed them to her aunt without a word. "It is Della indeed," said Aunt Lucy eagerly. "It is her, Clare dear, all right." The girl was silent.She looked at the envelope in her hand, feeling uncomfortable, and shifted it from one hand to the other. Finally, she looked up at Director Costa. "I got this letter from her today." She found that she couldn't say the word "mother." "She wants to go home. I was going to give it to Sergeant Keller for fingerprints. I think the fingerprints inside the envelope should be clear. But I guess you're not interested in it now." "Honey," he said patiently, and Lucy sighed at the same time. "I just showed you the evidence that this woman is your mother. What else can I do?" Try not to look around or look back when she and Lucy leave the office. She could hear the rustling sound of the director unfolding the letter paper, which she had slipped quietly into the director's hand at the last moment. Two days later, Chief Costa called them both to his office.He set chairs for them, talked about the weather and their bodies, and sat down in his own. He cleared his throat, wiped his thick chin, and sighed heavily. Lucy looked dazed.Claire stared very seriously. "What did you find," she said slowly. His eyes were full of thoughtfulness. "Not exactly. But I spent a lot of time thinking about it." He picked up an envelope and said to Lucy, "Your niece left me this letter when you were gone last time. It was a very touching letter from a woman she didn't think was her mother. "He paused for a moment, then continued, 'What if your niece is right in her suspicions? " "Oh, no," said Lucy, covering her mouth with her hands. "She's Della. Even Claire admits it now." "Assuming she's not, assuming Della is dead and buried." They stare at each other.Aunt Lucy turned her face away and took Claire's cold hand with both hands. Her niece said carefully: "My mother—is dead. You know about it?" He put the envelope on the table. "I don't know anything, I'm just assuming. You know by now how important a good fingerprint is. You've learned a lot about fingerprints over the last few weeks. So you know, If there is a very clear fingerprint here, we can send it to Washington, and we can learn a lot." He didn't seem to be in a hurry, picked up the envelope again, and tapped on the table. "You know, Washington may have her fingerprints on file for several reasons. She may have worked in the government, she may have served in the military, she may even be a criminal." Face. Claire stared at him intently. "Well—I sent the prints there. I got an answer, if the answer was that the prints belonged to Mrs. Williams, or Daisy Ambrose. What does that mean to you?" Lucy was dumbfounded. "I knew it was supposed to make sense," he continued. "Isn't she the same woman who is thought to have died with her husband in a car accident seven years ago? So maybe she didn't die. Maybe the little girl's mother was the one who died." "But Carter—" Lucy disagreed. "Yes," the chief nodded. "Your brother recognized the woman who was still alive as his wife. After all, why not? Even though she was Daisy Ambrose, a stranger. She lived, and besides, in six years his wife would inherit a pen inheritance, that is, if she is still alive in six years." "But he doesn't know this Mrs. Ambrose," said Aunt Lucy.Claire didn't move. "According to your description, after the car accident, he had enough time to communicate with her. Didn't he stay by her bedside for a few weeks before she was fully conscious? Her past is irrelevant. Who knows William Amber Where's Rose and his wife? Nobody came to identify the body. They're not related. Her husband died in a car accident. Why wouldn't she agree?" He nodded intelligently. "She's lucky enough to have the same complexion and height as Mrs. Tarrant, isn't she? Who's going to find out she's a fake? She's badly injured and only a five-year-old girl knows the real Della Tarrant A little girl of five isn't any danger to them at all, is it?" Claire's eyes were cold. "You mean, she hasn't been my mother since the car accident?" "Probably not, girl. Tell me, in the years after the car accident, did she ever look you in the eye? Didn't she always turn her face away so no one could see her bruised face? She Aren't you try to avoid you? Aren't the curtains always drawn in your father's house? Isn't your aunt mainly taking care of you since you were five or six years old? Am I right? If you still remember her eyes, I can bet you remember them from when you were very young." He waited for her answer.She ignored his question. "Does my father know about this?" "Should know, if our speculation is true. Those photos in the hospital prove that there is only one chance to replace it, and that is right after the accident." He stared at her. "You handed me a letter. I read it. Now tell me what you want me to do with it. Do you want me to find the fingerprints on it?" Her eyes didn't move.He continued: "You know, you might be right. Of course, if it is true or false, the government's punishment for first-time offenders is not too severe.Maybe a few years in jail. " She clenched her fists.Stomach pain intensified. "You make all these inferences from a possible fingerprint on the letter, don't you?" He nodded. She picked up the letter on the table and slowly tore it to pieces.The pain in her stomach subsided, and she asked calmly, "What is the basis for these inferences?" He replied, "A really good officer might have photocopied the letter, girl. He might even put it in his file, in case you change your mind someday. But," he sighed He took a deep breath, not so heavy this time. "Maybe you tore up all the evidence." A week later, at Rogon Airport, Claire and Aunt Lucy waited for a plane from the West Coast to land.Her eyes searched the crowd eagerly as the gangway was erected and passengers began to disembark. "There they are!" cried Lucy. Behold, her handsome father, Carter Tarrant, was walking confidently towards them, holding the arm of a tanned, lovely woman. Claire ran to her father. "Hi, baby," he laughed happily, struggling to free her hand. "Wait! We're glad to see you!" He turned her to his companion.His voice quickened. "This is your mother, don't you say hello to her?" When the little girl looked directly into Della's eyes, she was obviously very hesitant.Then, ignoring the throbbing of her stomach, she leaned over to the woman, kissed her quickly, and said briskly, "Welcome home—Mother." ?