Lucas was waiting when I returned home.
He was sitting at the kitchen table with both hands wrapped around a mug he wasn't drinking from.
Toby was upstairs.
Brenda stayed near the front door.
I put the medical records on the table.
“You said you would tell me.”
Lucas nodded.
“I will.”
“Start with the truth.”
He looked at me.
“I thought Melanie was dead.”
“That isn't enough.”
“I thought she was.”
“When?”
“After the surgery.”
“Before or after you saw her?”
He closed his eyes.
“After.”
“You saw her.”
“Yes.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“You told me you never saw her.”
“I lied.”
“Why?”
“Because I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
He looked down.
“Of what would happen if you knew.”
I felt anger rise through the grief.
“You don't get to protect me by lying about our daughter.”
“I know.”
“No. You don't.”
My voice shook.
“You made decisions about my child while I was unconscious.”
“I was trying to keep you alive.”
“Then tell me everything.”
He nodded.
“I went to the nursery after the doctors told me there had been complications.”
“What did you see?”
“Melanie.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
The word came out so softly I almost missed it.
I gripped the back of the chair.
“What did she look like?”
“Small.”
“Was she breathing?”
“Yes.”
“Was she crying?”
“No.”
“Was she moving?”
“A little.”
I closed my eyes.
For fourteen days, I had imagined a dead baby.
Now my husband was telling me he had seen my daughter alive.
“What happened next?”
“A nurse took her.”
“Which nurse?”
“I don't know.”
“Lena?”
He looked at me.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She said she needed to move her.”
“Where?”
“Another room.”
“Why?”
“She said there was an issue with the identification.”
I stared at him.
“The bracelets.”
He nodded.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“What issue?”
“I don't know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I didn't understand.”
“Then why did you give Nora money?”
His face changed.
“I didn't give Nora money for Melanie.”
“What was it for?”
“She asked me to help with Clara.”
“How?”
“Nora said she couldn't keep up with the medical bills.”
“Clara was healthy.”
“I know.”
“So why five thousand dollars?”
“I thought it was for the hospital.”
“Which hospital?”
He didn't answer.
“Lucas.”
“She was scared.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“She wasn't asking for rent.”
My stomach dropped.
“What was she asking for?”
“She wanted to leave.”
“Leave where?”
“Town.”
“Why?”
“She said someone had threatened her.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
I sat down.
“So you gave her five thousand dollars to disappear?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because she said she was afraid.”
“Of whom?”
He shook his head.
“I never knew.”
“Did she have Clara?”
“Yes.”
“Did she leave with Clara?”
“Yes.”
“Toby saw her carrying a baby.”
“Yes.”
“So that part was true.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did he think it was Melanie?”
Lucas looked at me.
“Because I touched the baby's head.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because I thought it was Melanie.”
The room went silent.
“What?”
“I thought the baby was Melanie.”
My heart pounded.
“You thought the baby you saw with Nora was our daughter?”
“For a few seconds.”
“Why?”
“Because the nurse had moved her.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
“You keep saying you don't know.”
“I was panicking.”
“Then what happened?”
“Nora came.”
“With Clara?”
“I thought so.”
“But you weren't sure.”
“No.”
“Did she tell you the baby was Clara?”
“Yes.”
“Did you believe her?”
“I wanted to.”
I felt tears burn my eyes.
“Why did you pay her?”
“Because she said she had to leave.”
“With which baby?”
“Clara.”
“Are you sure?”
He looked at me.
“No.”
That single word frightened me more than everything before it.
“You don't know which baby left with Nora.”
“No.”
I pushed away from the table.
“You let another woman leave a hospital carrying a newborn, and you don't know which child she took?”
“I was told Clara was hers.”
“By whom?”
“Nora.”
“That's all?”
“Yes.”
I laughed once.
It sounded terrible.
“So the only person who told you that was the person carrying the baby.”
He said nothing.
I looked toward the stairs.
Toby was upstairs.
My son had watched this.
He had seen the money.
He had seen Lucas touch the baby's head.
He had seen Nora leave.
He had not seen a face.
But he had seen enough to know something didn't fit.
I looked at the medical records.
“What happened during those forty-eight minutes?”
Lucas's eyes went to the missing section.
“I don't know.”
“You were there.”
“I wasn't.”
“Where?”
“Outside.”
“Doing what?”
“Talking to Nora.”
“About Clara?”
“About everything.”
“What did she tell you?”
“That the hospital had made a mistake.”
My heart stopped.
“What mistake?”
“She said they had mixed up two babies.”
I stared at him.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because the doctor said they were checking.”
“When?”
“After you woke up.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“They told me Melanie was dead.”
“They believed she was.”
“Believed?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you tell me she was definitely dead?”
He looked ashamed.
“Because I couldn't bear to tell you there had been a mistake.”
I stood.
“That wasn't your decision.”
“I know.”
“Did you see Melanie after that?”
“No.”
“Did you ask?”
“Yes.”
“Who did you ask?”
“The nurse.”
“Lena?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“That Melanie had died.”
“Did she show you proof?”
“No.”
I stared at him.
“Did anyone?”
“No.”
The house became very quiet.
Then Brenda spoke.
“There was one more thing.”
We both turned.
She was still standing near the door.
“What?”
She looked at me.
“The woman in the blue shirt.”
Lucas stiffened.
Brenda continued.
“I remember her now.”
“Who was she?”
“A social worker.”
“Why was she there?”
“She was talking to Nora.”
“About what?”
“I don't know.”
“Did she have a baby?”
“No.”
“Did she give Lucas a paper?”
Brenda nodded.
“Yes.”
“What was written on it?”
“I couldn't see.”
I looked at Lucas.
He looked away.
“Why did she give it to you?”
Brenda asked.
He didn't answer.
I walked over to him.
“Lucas.”
He finally looked at me.
“What was on that paper?”
His voice was barely audible.
“An identification number.”
“Whose?”
“I don't know.”
“You do.”
He swallowed.
“The baby's.”
“Which baby's?”
He looked at me.
And for the first time since Melanie was born, he said something that made the entire story shift.
“I don't know.”
My eyes filled.
He continued.
“But the number wasn't Melanie's.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 8: The Number on the Paper Matched Another Infant’s Record, and Suddenly the Hospital’s Missing Forty-Eight Minutes Became Impossible to Ignore
Two Weeks After Burying My Newborn Daughter, I Found My Eight-Year-Old Hiding Money Away for a Reason That Made No Sense
Part 7 of 11
