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He had known since he was four that he was adopted, but the details surrounding the adoption were shrouded in mystery. His mother had shared bits and pieces of how he was found but always evaded the full story. He had asked multiple times, but his parents would deflect the conversation, as if the answers were too painful to reveal.
After his conversation in Olivia’s hospital room with Charlotte, he needed to know what his mother was hiding. This was his first free moment to speak with his mother since talking to Charlotte Everhart.
“Jackson, you surprised me. What brings you here on a weekday morning? Is everything alright?” she asked, concern in her eyes.
“Mom, we need to talk.” He knew he couldn't put it off any longer. He sought answers to the secrets his family had kept buried for far too long.
Martha Reynolds looked at her son, her eyes filled with apprehension. She stepped aside, allowing him to enter the cozy living room.
Jackson took a deep breath, his heart pounding. Opening this door might lead to painful truths, but he couldn't ignore his questions any longer. He sat on a corner of the couch and motioned for his mother to sit across from him on her usual spot, a comfortable armchair.
“Mom, I need to know,” Jackson began. “How did you and Dad come to adopt me?”
Martha sighed, her gaze dropping to her hands folded in her lap. “Jackson, you know some things are better left in the past. Dad and I wanted to protect you from that pain.”
Jackson leaned forward, his voice firm. “I can't protect anyone if I don't know the truth. Turk and I went hiking on our day off. We went in search of and finally found the old Waverly mansion buried deep in Waverly woods.” He swallowed hard. “We found a body that was recently left there.
“Olivia Everhart was injured in a different fire, and when I went to visit her in the hospital, I was sitting with her mother, Charlotte. I asked her what she knew about the original fire at the Waverly mansion, including a phoenix symbol on the remnants of a fireplace mantel. She suggested you might know more than she did.” He stood and walked to the curio cabinet that stood in the corner of the living room and lifted a sterling silver rattle. Etched on the handle was a phoenix. When he handed it to his mother, she placed it on the table.
Martha met Jackson’s gaze, her eyes filled with sorrow. “Alright, I suppose it’s time.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “Your father and Chuck Everhart found you beneath your momma’s body in the living room the night the Waverly mansion burned.”
Jackson sank down into the couch. His face turned pale, and his breaths turned ragged.
“Your birth mother, Rainey, and her boyfriend, Christopher, died in that fire.” She closed her eyes, reopened them, and looked at Jackson with tears shining. “Christopher Waverly and Rainey Ashcroft.”
The names began to sink in—the last names of the two families who founded the town and were embroiled in a feud. The town lore had been passed down for years.
“Earlier that day, Christopher had a disagreement with the Waverly Junction town council, a dispute over a business deal. It escalated into a heated confrontation at the meeting.”
Jackson's pulse rose as he listened intently, his mother's words unraveling a long-kept secret.
“That night, hours after the argument, the fire broke out. Christopher, Rainey and you were trapped inside. They were overcome by the smoke just inside the front door. Apparently, the deadbolt was engaged. They couldn’t make it out. You were found beneath Rainey.”
“This rattle was in your hand.” She handed Jackson the sterling silver rattle. “You were barely two months old. We still don’t know how you survived. Poor sweet baby, you had severe smoke inhalation.”
She swallowed. “I was working that night in the PICU. I spent the night taking care of you. While you were in the hospital, we contacted Robert Kendrick, the town attorney. As per his instructions, we placed an ad in the legal notices of the local papers seeking any relatives. No Ashcrofts or anyone related to Rainey were found. No one responded to the ad, so the court allowed your dad and me to legally adopt you.”
She frowned. “Rainey was eighteen and pregnant when she began her relationship with Christopher, who was twenty-five. Christopher’s parents, Silas and Jule, as well as Christopher’s grandparents, Sinclair and Edna, wanted no part of Rainey’s baby.” She swiped at her eyes. “Dad and I paid for the testing they did in those days. From what the lab could tell us, Rainey was your momma, but the tissue testing was inconclusive for Christopher Waverly. But with their signature, the Waverlys relinquished any rights.” She reached for his hand. “Dad and I didn’t tell you because we knew that news would hurt your feelings.”
Tears welled up in Jackson's eyes as he absorbed the truth. His birth mother’s fate and how he was adopted was becoming clear, but, most importantly, he now understood his parents’ fear of hurting his feelings. He sat slack-jawed, but, after a long pause, he finally spoke. “Oh, Mom. How can I be hurt? You and Dad wanted me dearly.”
“Your dad and I always planned to tell you. Then your dad was gone. Can you forgive me?” She pulled a crumpled tissue from the pocket of her apron and dabbed her nose.
Jackson hated to see her cry. He thought for a moment and realized scolding his mom about keeping the secret would only cause her more pain and change nothing. He never felt unloved. He offered her an understanding smile. “What happened the night of the fire?”
Martha's gaze darkened. “Your momma and Christopher were in love. She worked as a maid in the Waverly house under the name of Rainey Bradshaw. She was pregnant before they started seeing each other. When we investigated, we discovered there was no father listed on your birth certificate. After the fire, Sinclair Waverly suspected Rainey used the name Bradshaw for some type of revenge against the Waverlys.
“The arsonist left Christopher, Rainey and you to die without facing any consequences. Your dad and Chuck thought someone on the Waverly town council ordered the fire.” She took a deep breath. “They never found out who. But your dad and Chuck thought it was started with white phosphorus. The official report said it was an accidental electric fire.”
Jackson blew out a breath. “White phosphorous ignites when it’s added to oxygen with a fierce and unforgiving flame.”
“Your dad and Chuck Everhart coined a nickname for part of the town council at the time: The Council of Nine. Your dad was the tenth, and Chuck Everhart was number eleven. The Nine ruled by intimidation. They always got their way. Robert Kendrick was on the council. If we’d known how ruthless he was, we’d never have used him as our attorney. Your dad and Chuck figured out he was the keeper of the town secrets.”
“Mom, please. Tell me,” he pleaded.
“Come with me.” Martha headed to his father’s upstairs office, where she now kept all of his father’s and his awards as well as ran the house business.
She slid open a set of pocket doors and removed a file secreted inside. “Those who dared to voice dissent against the majority of the town council faced intimidation and coercion. People who disagreed with the council's decisions found themselves targeted by a campaign of harassment and retribution.
