Chapter 7: What Marcus Said
My lawyer's name was Patricia Hale.
I had used her for the divorce eleven years ago and I had not spoken to her since.
When I called her from the kitchen while Logan sat with Ruth in the living room, she picked up on the second ring.
I told her everything in twelve minutes.
She was quiet for a moment after I finished.
"Do you still have the envelope?" she said.
"Yes."
"Don't let it out of your sight.
The photograph, the document, all of it.
And the nurse — Ruth — she needs to come in and make a formal statement.
Can she do that today?"
I looked through the doorway.
Ruth was sitting across from Logan, and they were talking quietly, and Logan was asking her something about the night of the birth, and she was answering him carefully, and I thought: she has been waiting fifteen years to answer these questions.
"Yes," I said.
"She can do that today."
"Good.
I'm going to make some calls.
Don't contact Marcus directly.
Don't contact Dora again.
If either of them reaches out to you, you tell them to speak to me."
"Marcus may already be—"
"I know," Patricia said.
"Let him.
If he moves money or destroys documents, that becomes its own problem for him.
The forged signature alone is enough to open a case.
The nurse's testimony makes it considerably stronger."
She paused.
"I have to ask you something," she said.
"Lily — the girl in Vermont.
What do you want the outcome to look like?
Because there are several directions this can go, and I need to understand what you're actually asking for."
I sat down at the kitchen table.
"I want her to know the truth," I said.
"I want her to know she has a mother and a brother.
What she does with that — that's her choice.
She's fifteen.
I'm not going to force anything."
"And legally?"
"I want Dora and Marcus to face what they did.
Whatever that looks like."
"All right," Patricia said.
"Then let's start."
Marcus called at four-thirty that afternoon.
I let it ring.
He called again.
On the third call I picked up, and before I could speak he said:
"Whatever my mother told you, it isn't the whole story."
"Then tell me the whole story," I said.
A long pause.
"I didn't know she was going to do it," he said.
"I want you to understand that.
I didn't know until after."
"After she took her."
"Yes."
"And then what did you do, Marcus?"
Silence.
"You did nothing," I said.
"You came to the hospital and you described a d*ad baby to me.
You told me she had my nose."
"I was trying to—"
"Protect the family.
Yes.
Your mother used the same word."
"You were in no state to—"
"Don't." My voice came out very quiet.
"Don't tell me what state I was in.
I was in a hospital bed.
I had just lost my daughter.
Except I hadn't.
Except she was in a car with your mother driving north, and you knew."
Another silence.
Longer this time.
"What are you going to do?" he said.
"My lawyer will be in contact."
"If you go to the police—"
"I'm going to the police."
"There are things that will come out," he said.
"Things about the adoption.
About the couple in Vermont.
They're good people, they didn't know anything, and if you—"
"I know they're good people," I said.
"I'm not trying to destroy anyone's life.
I'm trying to find my daughter."
"She doesn't know you exist," he said.
And the way he said it — not cruel, but flat, like a fact he'd been holding for years — made my breath catch.
"I know," I said.
"She has a life.
She has parents.
She's—"
"She has a brother," I said.
"She has a brother who planted flowers for her every year for fifteen years.
She has a mother who visited a grave that was empty." My hand was shaking.
I pressed it flat against the table.
"She deserves to know the truth.
Whatever she does with it is up to her.
But she deserves to know."
Marcus said nothing for a long time.
When he spoke again, his voice was different.
Smaller.
"Is Logan okay?" he said.
I looked through the doorway.
Logan was at the kitchen counter now, making tea — for himself, for Ruth — moving around the kitchen with the careful deliberateness of someone who needs to do something with their hands.
"No," I said honestly.
"But he will be."
I ended the call.
Logan set a mug in front of me without being asked.
He sat down across from me.
"Was that Dad?"
"Yes."
"What did he say?"
"He said he didn't know until after.
That he found out once it was done."
Logan wrapped both hands around his own mug.
"Do you believe him?" he said.
I thought about it.
Really thought about it.
"I believe he told himself a story," I said.
"That he was protecting everyone.
That it was already done and couldn't be undone.
I think he's been telling himself that story for fifteen years." I paused.
"That doesn't make it less of a crjme."
Logan nodded slowly.
"Ruth," he called toward the living room.
She appeared in the doorway.
"Will you stay for dinner?" he said.
"I think we have a lot more to talk about."
Ruth looked at him for a moment.
Then she pulled out the chair across from him and sat down.
May you like
"Yes," she said.
"I think we do."
