Part 3: Right Behind You
Two days later, our attorney called with an update.
The records review had identified two newborns whose hospital identification numbers appeared to have been transposed during a neonatal transfer.
One infant was recorded as deceased. Another had entered emergency protective care under incomplete identifying information.
Ellie’s earliest child-welfare record carried the number originally assigned to Lucy. But the identification-number discrepancy did not explain who had declared Lucy dead, how that death had been verified, or why the conflicting records had gone unchallenged. Investigators were examining each of those failures separately.
“Does that explain everything?” I asked.
“No,” the attorney said. “But it gives investigators a specific records trail to examine.”
The hospital had opened a formal investigation.
I requested every record concerning Lucy’s reported death.
I also asked who had verified her identity before issuing the certificate.
Nobody could answer that yet.
For once, I refused to accept a vague explanation.
Tom helped us arrange a meeting with a counselor experienced in adoption and complicated family histories.
We agreed Ellie would remain at home with Nora and Tom while the legal review continued.
We would tell her the truth carefully, with professional guidance, rather than let her overhear frightened adults discussing it.
That evening, Nora called.
“Are you angry with me?”
“Sometimes I’m angry at everyone,” I admitted. “But not because you love her.”
“Will you still come over?”
“Of course.”
Several weeks later, we were getting ready for a family outing.
Ellie appeared in the kitchen carrying two pink ribbons.
“Auntie Claire! Two pigtails, please.”
I pulled out a chair.
“Come here, then.”
She climbed up and handed me the ribbons.
Nora brought the hairbrush.
“She washed her hair this morning,” she warned.
Ellie groaned.
“Mommy, it’s not that tangled!”
“It was when I brushed it.”
“That’s because you brushed it wrong.”
Tom called from the hallway.
“Are we leaving today or next Tuesday?”
“Tuesday!” Ellie shouted.
I laughed and began separating her curls.
The first ribbon went in easily.
The second kept slipping.
“Too tight,” Ellie complained.
I loosened it.
“How’s that?”
She touched both pigtails.
“One’s higher.”
Nora leaned closer.
“She’s right.”
“Traitor,” I muttered.
Nora smiled and adjusted the ribbon.
Ellie hopped off the chair and ran toward Tom.
“Ready!”
He opened the front door.
She hurried outside, asking whether there would be ice cream afterward.
Nora picked up Ellie’s sweater.
“Claire? Coming?”
I put the brush down.
“Right behind you.”
She waited while I collected my purse.
Then we went out together.
Note: This story is a work of fiction inspired by real events. Names, characters, and details have been altered. Any resemblance is coincidental. The author and publisher disclaim accuracy, liability, and responsibility for interpretations or reliance. All images are for illustration purposes only.
