Chương 10
Daniel wrote that Noah was not her son anymore.
Rebecca responded:
Legally, I know exactly what he is. You don’t have to punish me with the word.
Emma stopped.
Her breath caught.
She could not keep reading.
Robert sat across from her without speaking.
After several minutes, she continued.
There was no threat.
No blackmail.
No attempt to find the school.
Rebecca asked repeatedly for mediated contact through a counselor or attorney.
Daniel refused.
Then he stopped responding.
Her final message was eighteen months old.
Please tell Emma I am sorry if this hurt her. I should have contacted both of you. I was afraid she would say no before I had a chance to explain why I came back.
Emma read it until the screen dimmed.
Daniel had not merely hidden Rebecca.
He had made himself the gatekeeper of a decision that belonged to Noah, Emma, and professionals who might have helped them navigate it safely.
Then he had used Rebecca’s request for connection as evidence that she was unstable.
Emma felt something toward her husband that was cleaner than rage.
Distance.
The marriage had been dying in dramatic pieces for years.
That night, one quiet thing ended.
She no longer wanted Daniel to come home.
At eleven thirty, Emma carried the adoption box downstairs.
She and Robert went through it together.
The old records did not support Rebecca’s claim that she had been promised an easy way to reverse the adoption. They also did not disprove her sense of pressure.
There were counseling notes indicating Rebecca’s mother had attended several meetings.
One line stood out.
Birth mother expresses ambivalence; mother encourages placement, citing financial instability and lack of paternal involvement.
Emma remembered meeting Rebecca once.
Only once.
The adoption agency had arranged it in a conference room.
Rebecca wore a green sweater even though it was warm outside. She asked Emma what music she liked, whether she planned to work, whether she believed in spanking, whether Daniel had ever been arrested.
Daniel had laughed nervously at that last one.
No, he had said.
At the time, it was true.
Before they left, Rebecca asked Emma one final question.
If he asks about me, what will you tell him?
Emma had answered with absolute confidence.
Whatever is true.
Sitting at her parents’ table seven years later, Emma covered her mouth.
Robert looked at her.
“What?”
“I promised her.”
He waited.
“I promised I would tell him the truth.”
“You intended to.”
“I intended to tell him the version I could control.”
Robert said nothing.
Emma gave him a tired look.
“You can disagree.”
“I don’t.”
“That’s irritating.”
“I’m learning.”
She almost laughed.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from Lauren.
I’m sorry to bother you. I found something.
Emma opened it.
A screenshot.
Four months earlier, Daniel had messaged Lauren.
Do Mom and Dad still have the old estate lawyer?
Lauren had replied:
Why?
Daniel:
Need referral.
Lauren:
For what?
Daniel:
Just planning ahead.
Emma stared at the date.
This was before Daniel missed the mortgage.
Before Robert created the trust.
Before the DUI.
She called Lauren.
Her sister answered immediately.
“I forgot about that,” Lauren said.
“What else did he ask you?”
“Nothing. I thought he wanted a will.”
“Did you give him the lawyer’s name?”
“Yes.”
“Which lawyer?”
“Milton Avery.”
Emma looked at Robert.
He shook his head.
“Not ours.”
“Do you know him?”
“By reputation.”
Emma put the call on speaker.
Robert asked, “Why did Daniel want an estate attorney?”
Lauren said, “I don’t know.”
Emma rubbed her forehead.
“Did he contact you again?”
“Not about that.”
“Anything else you forgot?”
Lauren was quiet.
“Probably.”
“Lauren.”
“I’m not being sarcastic. I didn’t know what mattered.”
Emma softened slightly.
“Go through your messages tomorrow.”
“I can do it now.”
“No. Go to bed.”
A pause.
“Are you okay?”
“No.”
“Is Noah?”
“He’s asleep.”
“Did he ask about me?”
Emma looked toward the stairs.
“Yes.”
Lauren inhaled.
“What did he say?”
“That you owe him a good frame.”
Lauren gave a small broken laugh.
“I do.”
“And he asked why you said it.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That adults say terrible things when they’re angry.”
“Did you tell him I was jealous?”
“No.”
“You could have.”
“I know.”
Lauren was quiet.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. I wasn’t protecting you.”
“I know.”
Emma almost told her to stop saying it.
She didn’t.
The next morning, Noah woke at six twelve and asked whether being adopted meant he could have two birthdays.
Emma was still half asleep.
“What?”
“One for when I was born and one for when you got me.”
She sat up.
“That is an aggressive gift strategy.”
“So yes?”
“No.”
“What about cake?”
“Maybe.”
He considered that acceptable.
Then he climbed into bed beside her.
After a minute he asked, “Does Rebecca know my birthday?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Because she was there.”
He thought about that.
“Right.”
He picked at a loose thread on the blanket.
“Did she name me Noah?”
“No.”
“What was my name?”
Emma had known this question would come eventually.
She had not expected it before coffee.
“Eli.”
Noah sat up.
“My name was Eli?”
“For three days.”
“That’s weird.”
“It’s not weird.”
“It’s weird because I’m Noah.”
“That is a compelling argument.”
“Why did you change it?”
“We didn’t exactly change it. The agency used Eli because Rebecca called you that. When we adopted you, we gave you the name we’d chosen.”
“Did Rebecca like Noah?”
Emma hesitated.
“I don’t know.”
His face tightened.
Emma corrected herself.
“I should say I never asked.”
“Can we ask her?”
“If we find her.”
“You found her.”
Emma looked at him.
“Dad had her Facebook.”
His casual certainty made Emma sit very still.
“You heard us?”
“Not everything.”
“How much?”
“You said Facebook.”
Emma rubbed her face.
May you like
The house had too many vents, too many hallways, too many adults who thought a sleeping child could not hear.
“Yes,” she said. “We found an old profile.”
