I can’t explain the excitement I felt as I drove to the hospital to bring Suzie and our newborn twin daughters home. I had spent the past few days decorating the nursery, cooking a big family dinner, and planning the perfect welcome. I even picked up balloons on the way. But when I arrived, my excitement turned into confusion.
Suzie wasn’t there. I just found our two sleeping daughters and a note.
My hands shook as I unfolded it:
“Goodbye. Take care of them. Ask your mother WHY she did this to me.”
I froze, rereading it over and over. What the hell did this mean? Where was Suzie?
I asked the nurse, my voice trembling.
“Where’s my wife?”
“She checked out this morning,” the nurse said hesitantly. “She said you knew.”
Knew? I had no clue. I drove home with the twins, my mind racing, replaying every moment of Suzie’s pregnancy. She seemed happy — or was I blind?
When I got home, my mom was there, smiling and holding a casserole. “Oh, let me see my grandbabies!”
I pulled back. “Not yet, Mom. What did you do to Suzie?”
My mother’s expression shifted instantly from delight to unease. She opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out. The casserole dish trembled in her hands.
“What did I do?” she repeated. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Mom, I’m not in the mood for games. Suzie’s gone, and all I have is this note.” I yanked the folded paper from my pocket and handed it to her. “She wrote: ‘Ask your mother WHY she did this to me.’ So I’m asking.”
Her eyes scanned the note, and her face paled. “I… I need to sit down.”
I watched her carefully. We had always been a close-knit family. My mother never liked drama, and she never meddled in my relationships—at least that’s what I’d believed. She had been thrilled about becoming a grandmother. So why would Suzie claim my mom had done something awful?
I set the twins—still dozing in their car seats—on the living room floor. My mother sat stiffly on the couch, hands folded on her lap, breathing shallowly.
“I…” she began, then stopped. “It’s complicated.”
“Then uncomplicate it.” My heart hammered. “My wife’s missing, Mom. I need answers.”
She swallowed hard. “Suzie has a past I thought was dangerous for you. For the babies. I was scared. I tried to protect you, but I might have gone too far.”
“What does that even mean? You told me you loved Suzie,” I snapped. “You attended our wedding with the biggest smile, remember?”
She nodded, a tear sliding down her cheek. “I wasn’t honest.”
There was no way around it—I needed the full story. I scooped up both infants, cradling them against my chest, trying to soothe their little whimpers that had started up. Sensing my agitation, they stirred and squirmed but stayed relatively calm.
