“That depends,” Edward said carefully. “If Lily is Emma, I would never separate you. You’re as much her family now as I am. But I need to know the truth. For her sake as much as mine.”
“How can we be sure?” Martha asked.
“She doesn’t remember her life before the accident. Memory can be a tricky thing,” Edward suggested. “But there are other ways. A DNA test would be definitive.”
“And if she is your daughter?” Martha’s voice trembled slightly. “Will you take her away from me?”
“No,” Edward promised firmly. “Whatever happens, we’ll find a way forward together. For Lily’s sake.”
Their conversation was interrupted by a soft sound from the hallway. They turned to see Lily standing in the doorway, her expression confused and frightened.
“Grandma,” she said tentatively. “What’s going on? Why are you crying?”
Martha quickly wiped her eyes. “Nothing to worry about, honey. Ed and I were just having an important talk.”
Lily looked from one to the other, skeptical. “About me? I heard my name.”
Edward and Martha exchanged a look, silently deciding how much to reveal. Before either could speak, Lily’s eyes suddenly widened, staring at something behind them. On the refrigerator hung a calendar with a date circled—September 18th, marked as “Science Fair.” Below it was a small photo of Lily and Martha taken at a park last weekend.
But Lily wasn’t looking at any of that. She was staring at a small magnet holding up a grocery list—a souvenir from the City Observation Deck with a nighttime skyline.
“I was there,” she whispered, moving slowly toward it. “At night, with all the lights. Someone was holding my hand. Someone tall.” She turned to Edward, her face a mask of bewilderment. “Why do I remember that?”
Edward felt his heart stop. The visit to the Observation Deck had been their last family outing before the accident—a celebration for Emma’s eighth birthday just two weeks before the bridge collapse.
“You remember the Observation Deck?” he asked cautiously, trying to keep his voice neutral despite the hope surging through him.
Lily frowned, touching the magnet with a hesitant finger. “I think so. It was night. Everything was sparkling. I could see the boats on the river.” Her brow furrowed with the effort of remembering. “Someone bought me a chocolate-dipped cone…”
“What else do you remember, Lily?” Martha asked softly, moving closer.
The girl shook her head, frustrated. “It’s like trying to remember a dream. The pieces don’t fit together.” She looked at Edward. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Edward realized he was staring and quickly softened his expression. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I took my daughter, Emma, to the Observation Deck for her eighth birthday. We had chocolate-dipped cones while we watched the boats.”
Lily’s eyes widened. “Is that why you think I might be her? Because I remember the lights?”
The directness of the question caught both adults off guard. Martha recovered first, pulling out a chair for Lily at the kitchen table. “Why don’t we all sit down? I think it’s time for an honest talk.”
With remarkable composure, Martha explained how she had found Lily on the riverbank two years ago—cold, injured, and with no memory of who she was or how she’d gotten there.
“I tried to find out who you belonged to,” Martha told her, holding the girl’s hands. “But you couldn’t remember your name or where you lived. And I was afraid that if I turned you over to the state, they’d put you in a foster home. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you after my own daughter passed. Your mother, as I told you, is gone.”
“So you’re not really my grandma?” Lily asked, her voice small.
Martha’s eyes filled with tears. “In every way that matters, I am. Love makes a family, not just blood. But no, I’m not your biological grandmother.”
Lily turned to Edward, her expression a mix of confusion and dawning realization. “And you think I’m your daughter? The one who got lost in the river?”
“I believe it’s possible,” Edward said gently. “The timing matches. You look exactly like she did, right down to the crescent scar near your temple. And now you’re remembering things Emma experienced.”
“But I’m Lily,” she insisted, a note of panic in her voice. “That’s who I am.”
“You’re still you,” Martha assured her quickly. “Whatever your name was before, whatever memories you recover, nothing changes who you are inside.”
Edward nodded in agreement. “Your identity isn’t erased when you learn about your past. It just becomes more complete.”
Lily sat in silence for a long moment, processing the revelation. “If I’m your daughter…”
