Chương 7
Then he said, “That’s not a patient number.”
“What is it?”
“It looks like an internal infant security tag code.”
Jo saw Claire’s face.
“What?” she asked.
Claire covered the phone.
“He thinks the number was tied to newborn security.”
Jo sat down.
Daniel continued, “Robert wants the physical bracelet examined.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“It belongs to Eli.”
“They need to authenticate it.”
“Then they can do that without taking it.”
“That may not be possible.”
“Then they can wait.”
Daniel breathed out.
“You’re making this emotional.”
She stood so fast the chair legs scraped.
“Yes, Daniel. An eight-year-old boy may have been separated from our family at birth. I am having an emotion.”
Eli stared at her.
Claire immediately regretted raising her voice.
She lowered it.
“I’ll call you later.”
She hung up.
Jo said, “Your husband always like that?”
“No.”
Claire reconsidered.
“Yes.”
Eli touched the bracelet.
“My mom hated hospitals.”
Claire looked at him.
“Why?”
“She wouldn’t go inside them.”
“Even when she was sick?”
He shook his head.
“What was she sick with?”
“Everything.”
Jo quietly said, “Rachel had advanced cervical cancer when outreach finally got her into treatment.”
Claire’s chest tightened.
Eli scraped his spoon along the side of the oatmeal cup.
“She said hospitals take things.”
Claire felt the hair rise on her arms.
“What things?”
“People.”
Jo and Claire exchanged a look.
Eli continued.
“She said if anybody asked where I came from, I should say her.”
“Did anyone ask?”
“Sometimes.”
“Who?”
“Teachers. A social worker. People.”
“What did she tell them?”
“That I was hers.”
“Did you believe her?”
Eli looked offended.
“She was my mother.”
Claire nodded.
“I’m sorry.”
There it was again: the distinction adults could make easily and children should never be required to.
Jo said, “Rachel was protective. Sometimes beyond rational.”
“She had reasons,” Eli said.
Jo’s mouth tightened.
“Yes.”
Claire looked at the certificate.
“Do you know anything about Rachel before Eli was born?”
Jo shook her head.
“She moved around. Used shelters under different names sometimes. That’s not unusual for women hiding from abusive partners.”
“Was she?”
“Maybe. She never told me.”
Eli said, “There was a man.”
Both women turned.
“What man?” Jo asked.
“The one she hated.”
Jo sat straighter.
“You never told me this.”
“You never asked.”
“What man?”
Eli frowned, trying to retrieve something.
“He came to our apartment when I was little.”
“How little?”
“I don’t know. Four?”
“What did he look like?”
“Old.”
Jo said, “Everybody over thirty is old to a four-year-old.”
Eli almost smiled.
“He had white hair here.”
He touched his temples.
“What did he want?” Claire asked.
“He talked to Mom in the hallway. She closed the door. Then she packed our stuff.”
“Did you move?”
“That night.”
Claire’s skin prickled.
“Do you remember his name?”
“No.”
“Anything he said?”
Eli shook his head.
Then he stopped.
“He called her Rebecca.”
Jo stared at him.
Claire whispered, “But her name was Rachel.”
“That’s why she got mad.”
By noon, Mara had joined them.
By one, the first solid contradiction appeared.
Rachel Mercer did not exist in any easily accessible record before Eli’s birth.
The social security number on older housing paperwork belonged to a dead woman in Ohio.
The birth certificate itself appeared valid in the county database, but Mara cautioned them that a valid certificate proved only that a record had been filed, not that every underlying statement was true.
Daniel joined by video call and was immediately told by Jo that if he spoke over anybody she would hang up the tablet.
He behaved for almost seven minutes.
Then he said, “We need DNA testing.”
Eli went pale.
Claire said, “Not like that.”
“What other way is there?”
“He has to understand.”
“He’s eight.”
“Stop using his age when it’s convenient.”
Jo leaned toward the tablet.
“I like her.”
Daniel sighed.
Noah, who had been brought by Mara after school, entered the room carrying two comic books and a bag of pretzels.
Eli stared at him.
Noah stopped.
For several seconds the boys simply looked at each other.
Then Noah held up the comics.
“I didn’t know what you like.”
Eli shrugged.
“I don’t know those.”
“That’s okay. One is bad.”
“Why bring it?”
“I thought you might like bad ones.”
Eli gave him a suspicious look.
Noah nodded toward a chair.
“Can I sit?”
“It’s not my chair.”
Noah sat.
The adults tried not to watch them.
They failed.
Noah opened one comic.
Eli leaned closer.
After a minute he said, “That guy looks stupid.”
“He is stupid.”
“Why does he have a cape?”
“He thinks it makes him aerodynamic.”
“That’s not how capes work.”
“I know.”
Claire looked at Daniel on the tablet.
His face had changed.
He looked as frightened as she felt.
Later, after the boys had been taken to the common room, Mara outlined the options.
A private DNA test could establish biological relationship quickly, but if legal action followed, they would need properly documented testing.
Eli could not simply consent on his own.
His current legal status mattered.
Jo was not his guardian. She was an approved temporary caregiver through a nonprofit arrangement while county services determined placement after Rachel’s death.
That changed everything.
If Claire and Daniel announced a possible biological connection, child welfare would become involved.
“They should be involved,” Daniel said.
Claire disliked agreeing with him.
Mara nodded.
“Yes. But understand what that means. Nobody is handing Eli to you because your cheekbones match.”
“I don’t want anybody to hand me a child.”
Jo raised an eyebrow.
Claire corrected herself.
“I mean—I’m not claiming him.”
“Good.”
Mara continued.
“If there is biological relationship, then there are questions about how he came to be raised by Rachel, whether she had legal custody, whether crimes occurred, whether there are other relatives, whether your parental rights exist or were terminated, whether there was fraud.”
Claire looked at her.
“Parental rights?”
May you like
“If he is biologically yours.”
The phrase hit differently.
