Chương 7
His face folded slightly.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
Rachel looked away.
Noah sighed in his sleep.
His fingers opened and closed.
David watched him.
“Do you love him?”
Rachel asked.
David looked at her.
“What?”
“Do you love Noah?”
“Yes.”
“Even though the test says he isn’t biologically yours?”
“Yes.”
There was no hesitation.
Rachel believed him.
That made everything harder.
“What happened to the baby I delivered?”
David’s eyes dropped.
“We don’t know that anything happened.”
“David.”
“The child discharged to us was Noah.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
He was silent.
Rachel’s voice became very quiet.
“Was there another baby?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to him?”
“We were told Vanessa’s baby died.”
Rachel stopped breathing.
“When?”
“February thirteenth.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“You were recovering from surgery.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me later?”
“Because Vanessa asked us not to.”
Rachel looked toward the door.
“Why?”
“She couldn’t do it again.”
“Do what?”
“Have the family mourn another baby.”
Rachel stood.
“I need Vanessa.”
“Rachel—”
“Get her.”
Vanessa came five minutes later wearing sweatpants and a sweater instead of the burgundy dress. Without makeup, she looked younger and more exhausted.
Rachel pointed to the chair David had vacated.
“Sit.”
Vanessa did.
“David says your baby died.”
Vanessa looked at her brother.
Then back at Rachel.
“Yes.”
“You told everyone the pregnancy was a surrogacy.”
“Yes.”
“Then what did you tell people happened to the baby?”
“That the arrangement had become private and complicated.”
Rachel stared at her.
“And everyone accepted that?”
“No.”
“Margaret?”
“She asked. I lied.”
“Your friends?”
“I stopped seeing most of them.”
Rachel had noticed that.
She had interpreted it as grief over Ethan.
Another memory rewritten.
“Did you see the baby who died?”
Vanessa’s face went still.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I was sick.”
“How sick?”
“Blood pressure. Hemorrhage. They took me back to surgery.”
“And afterward?”
“They told me the baby had deteriorated.”
“Who told you?”
Vanessa frowned.
“A doctor.”
“Name?”
“I don’t remember.”
Rachel stared.
“You don’t remember the name of the doctor who told you your baby died?”
Vanessa’s expression hardened.
“I had just nearly bled to death.”
Rachel regretted the question immediately.
Not because it was wrong.
Because of the way she had asked it.
“I’m sorry.”
Vanessa looked away.
A long silence passed.
Then she said, “I don’t remember his face either.”
Rachel said nothing.
“I remember his shoes.”
Vanessa rubbed her palms against her knees.
“Brown shoes. One lace was loose. That’s what I remember. He told me the baby had died and I stared at his shoe because I kept thinking he was going to trip.”
Rachel swallowed.
“Did you hold the baby afterward?”
“No.”
“Did you see him?”
“No.”
“Funeral?”
“The hospital said the remains had been released according to the paperwork.”
“What paperwork?”
Vanessa looked at David.
Rachel did too.
David’s face changed.
“What?”
Vanessa said, “You handled it.”
“I handled what you asked me to handle.”
“What exactly?”
“The hospital liaison. The cremation.”
Rachel stared.
“Was there a death certificate?”
“Yes.”
“You saw it?”
David hesitated.
“No.”
Rachel stood.
“You never saw it?”
“Caleb did.”
“Of course Caleb did.”
“I was trying to protect Vanessa.”
Rachel laughed bitterly.
“You have protected everyone in this family except the people you were protecting.”
David looked at the floor.
Rachel picked up her phone.
“Tomorrow we get DNA tests. Then we get hospital records.”
Vanessa nodded.
“And we find out whether a baby actually died.”
The train began moving again at 2:53 a.m.
Rachel did not sleep.
At dawn, the mountains emerged blue and white beyond the glass.
Noah woke cheerful.
He slapped both hands against the window and laughed at his own reflection.
Rachel sat beside him in pajamas and watched.
For ten minutes she allowed herself to be only his mother.
She changed him.
Fed him.
Let him chew the corner of a clean washcloth because it amused him.
At one point he sneezed and looked offended.
Rachel laughed.
Then she cried again.
Noah stared at her.
“Yeah,” she said. “I’m getting tired of it too.”
When the train reached Denver, Rachel was first onto the platform.
The cold struck her face.
David followed with the luggage. Vanessa and Margaret came behind.
No one discussed going home.
They went directly to the laboratory.
The legal testing process was painfully ordinary.
Identification.
Forms.
Cheek swabs.
Signatures.
Rachel read every line before signing.
When the technician asked whether she wanted David listed as an authorized recipient of the results, Rachel said no.
David stood beside her.
He did not object.
Vanessa gave her sample separately.
The technician labeled each packet in front of them.
Rachel watched the labels.
She watched the seals.
She watched the chain-of-custody signatures.
She had become a person who watched hands.
Results would take two business days.
“Can you expedite it?” Rachel asked.
“For an additional fee.”
“Yes.”
David reached for his wallet.
Rachel stopped him.
“I’ll pay.”
“Rachel.”
“I’ll pay.”
The fee was $475.
Her card declined.
She stared at the terminal.
Then remembered she had frozen the joint account from her phone at four that morning.
The technician pretended not to notice.
Rachel used another card.
Outside, David said, “You froze our accounts.”
“The joint ones.”
“Okay.”
She looked at him.
“You keep saying okay as if cooperation now changes what you did.”
“I know it doesn’t.”
“Then stop trying to earn points for behaving normally.”
He nodded.
Vanessa stood near the curb.
Margaret had gone to get coffee.
Rachel looked at her sister-in-law.
“Hospital.”
Vanessa nodded.
St. Catherine’s Medical Center did not hand over records because four distressed members of the Morgan family appeared at the desk demanding answers.
That, Rachel discovered, was reassuring.
There were forms.
Identity verification.
Patient portals.
Medical records requests.
Separate permissions because Rachel and Vanessa were separate patients.
A privacy officer.
May you like
A risk-management representative who arrived after someone noticed the name Morgan and the unusual overlap in birth dates.
Rachel refused to discuss the suspected identification error until she had her own records.
