My Heart Remembers by Kim Vogel Sawyer Page B

eyes. “Not even her beauty is enough to compensate for all I would have to give up.”
    Suddenly Mrs. Heaton bustled around the corner, her mouth pursed. She spotted Isabelle and paused outside the den doors, touching Isabelle’s sleeve with her fingertips before speaking.
    “Glenn, I could hear you in the kitchen, as could every servant in the house. What’s going on?”
    Glenn stepped into the wide doorway. His gaze bounced from his mother to Isabelle, who cowered next to the doorjamb. He looked at Isabelle when he spoke, but she felt certain the words were meant for himself. “I can hardly bear to think of that arrogant Randolph having the victory, yet what else can I do?”
    Mrs. Heaton shook her head. “What are you talking about?”
    Glenn drew in a deep breath, disappointment appearing in his eyes before his expression became stony. “Legally, there is no Isabelle Standler. Therefore no agreement exists between Reginald Standler and Father. There can be no wedding.”

C HAPTER N INE
    W -what do you mean there won’t be a wedding? Of course there will be a wedding!” Though Isabelle implored Glenn with her tone and fervent gaze, he did not look at her.
    “Glenn . . . Garrett . . .” Mrs. Heaton looked from her son to her husband as Isabelle stared in horror. “Will someone please explain what is going on?”
    “This.” Glenn snatched up a paper and held it out. The paper crinkled within his clenched fist. “It’s a statement of agreement— signed by Reginald Standler—transferring responsibility from the Good Shepherd Asylum for Orphans and Half Orphans of one-year-old Molly Gallagher to the Standlers.” His jaw muscles bulged. “Of course, we’ve been introduced to that child as Isabelle Standler.”
    Isabelle stared at the paper. Although she recognized the boldly scribbled signature at the bottom as belonging to her father, she still raised her voice in argument. “This simply must be counterfeit. Why, Mama and Papa never intimated I was not born to them. Mama showed me pictures of her own mother. She said I looked just like my grandmother!”
    Mr. Heaton lifted another page from those scattered across his desk and offered it to Isabelle. “As you can see from the copies of correspondence, Reginald went to a great deal of trouble to secure a child who would resemble Rebecca’s mother. That letter was sent to four different organizations that sent orphans west. You were selected specifically because of your physical appearance.”
    Leaning back in his chair, Garrett Heaton fixed Isabelle with a hooded gaze. “Reginald Standler was wily. He carefully planned, well in advance, so he and Rebecca could be gone from the community an adequate length of time to fabricate the duration of a pregnancy and allow for your age when you were received. No one had reason to suspect you were anything but their biological daughter.”
    Isabelle shook her head. This couldn’t be true. Her parents wouldn’t have kept this a secret from her. “I refuse to believe it.” “You have no choice,” Glenn said harshly. “There is no birth certificate for Isabelle Standler. There is no adoption form that proves you are Isabelle Standler. On the contrary, all of the evidence points to the fact that you are, indeed, Molly Gallagher.”
    Isabelle blinked rapidly, holding back tears. Was it possible Glenn’s statement was true? And what if it were? Would it change that she had been raised by Reginald and Rebecca Standler? No. Did it mean she hadn’t been loved by her mama and papa? Certainly not! Did it erase the opportunities she’d been given to be educated, groomed, and taught to be a lady? Of course not. It was merely a name. A name that, in a few months, would change again when she became Mrs. Glenn Heaton.
    Her racing pulse calmed. She raised her chin and forced a quavering smile to her lips. “All right, then. Fine. I was born Molly Gallagher.” Flipping her wrists outward, she said, “However, I prefer