Chương 7
“When did you suspect?”
“Twenty-six days ago.”
Emily closed her eyes.
Twenty-six days.
Aaron had been dead for more than three months.
Emily had been sleeping with her phone beside her in case she went into labor.
She had been folding tiny onesies.
Sterilizing bottles.
Arguing with her mother about whether a newborn needed socks in July.
For twenty-six days, someone at North Lake had considered the possibility that the baby inside her body did not come from the embryo she and Aaron had created.
“And Margaret knew.”
Dr. Beck was quiet.
“How did Margaret know?”
“We did not notify her.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“We don’t know.”
Emily gave a short, broken laugh.
“Everybody keeps not knowing things.”
“Ms. Carter, I understand how impossible this sounds.”
“Do you?”
“No.”
For once, he stopped pretending.
Emily looked at Rachel.
The nurse’s eyes were wet.
Emily hated that too.
“Get off my phone,” Emily said.
“Ms. Carter, please don't agree to any private testing or sign anything from Ms. Hale. We are arranging independent counsel—”
Emily ended the call.
The room was quiet.
Rachel waited.
Emily picked up the baby.
He woke at once.
His eyes opened in the unfocused way newborn eyes did, not looking at her exactly, but near her.
Emily held him against her chest.
She expected the truth to change something physical.
His weight.
His smell.
The way his head fit beneath her chin.
Nothing changed.
That was almost unbearable.
“I carried him,” she said.
Rachel nodded.
Emily looked up sharply.
“Don’t nod like that.”
Rachel stopped.
“I carried him.”
“Yes.”
“I threw up for five months.”
Rachel said nothing.
“I couldn't eat chicken. I used to like chicken.”
“I know.”
“How do you know?”
“You complained about it during labor.”
Emily stared at her.
Then she remembered.
At some point between contractions, Rachel had asked what Emily wanted to eat after delivery.
Emily had said, Anything that isn’t chicken.
A ridiculous detail.
She started crying.
Not loudly.
Tears simply slid down her face while she kept staring at Rachel.
“I talked to him every night after Aaron died.”
Rachel lowered her eyes.
“I told him things about his father.”
Emily wiped her cheek with her shoulder because both hands were holding the baby.
“I told him Aaron hated cilantro. I told him he lied about liking my mother’s meatloaf for six years. I told him his dad used to fall asleep during every movie and then insist he was awake.”
Her voice shook.
“What am I supposed to do with that now?”
Rachel looked at her.
“Nothing.”
Emily frowned.
Rachel spoke carefully.
“You don't have to do anything with it right now.”
“He might not be Aaron’s.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
“You’re right.”
Emily laughed through tears.
“I hate when you say that.”
“I know.”
“That too.”
Rachel nodded once.
Then, despite everything, Emily almost smiled.
It vanished quickly.
At one twenty-three, Margaret Hale asked to speak with Emily.
Officer Ortiz brought the request.
Emily said no.
Margaret asked again through her attorney.
Emily said no.
At two, a detective arrived and told Emily they had located Janet Vale’s car at her apartment complex but not Janet. Her phone was off. Her hospital badge had been found in a trash bin behind a gas station six miles away.
Emily listened without interrupting.
“Do you think she was paid?” she asked.
“We’re looking at that.”
“By Margaret?”
“We don’t know.”
“The man?”
“We don’t know.”
“Can you stop him from coming back?”
“We’ve issued his image to hospital security. The police can’t detain an unidentified person indefinitely based solely on a partial image.”
“He tried to get into maternity.”
“He entered a restricted area and fled after being challenged. We’re investigating.”
Emily rubbed her forehead.
The detective did not tell her to calm down.
She appreciated him for that.
The DNA samples were collected at three thirty.
A lab technician swabbed the inside of the baby's cheek while Emily watched.
Emily gave a blood sample.
North Lake was instructed through counsel to preserve Aaron’s stored genetic material and all embryology records. The hospital arranged for an independent laboratory rather than using the clinic’s preferred service.
Emily insisted on that.
It was the first decision of the day that felt like hers.
Her mother came at four.
She walked into the room carrying a canvas tote filled with things nobody needed: a hairbrush, two oranges, a clean sweatshirt, three granola bars, a paperback Emily had already read, and a phone charger even though Emily’s phone was already charging.
She took one look at Emily and stopped.
“Oh, honey.”
“Don’t.”
Her mother nodded.
She looked at the baby.
“Can I?”
Emily’s arms tightened before she could stop them.
Her mother saw.
Something painful crossed her face.
“No,” Emily said quickly. “I mean—just give me a minute.”
“Of course.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
The words irritated Emily.
“Can everybody stop telling me what not to feel?”
Her mother blinked.
Rachel quietly left the room.
Emily immediately regretted the outburst.
Her mother sat in the chair by the window and began peeling one of the oranges.
“You brought oranges?”
“They were on the counter.”
“I don’t want an orange.”
“I do.”
Emily watched her mother separate the peel in one long strip.
After a while, Emily said, “There’s a chance he isn't Aaron’s.”
Her mother stopped peeling.
Emily told her.
Not well.
She skipped things.
Went backward.
Forgot the time of the chart change and then remembered it.
Repeated the detail about the signature twice.
Her mother did not interrupt until Emily finished.
Then she asked, “Is he yours?”
Emily stared.
“Did you hear anything I said?”
“I heard you.”
“They think the embryo might belong to another couple.”
“I asked if he’s yours.”
Emily’s throat tightened.
“I don't know what that means anymore.”
Her mother put the orange on a napkin.
“I do.”
“Mom.”
“You carried him.”
May you like
“That does not erase another family.”
“I didn't say it did.”
