Chapter 4
I stood so fast my chair hit the wall.
“What did you just say?”
Jason stared at me.
The attorney repeated himself calmly.
“Mr. Reynolds has raised questions concerning the consent used in Emily’s adoption.”
My throat tightened.
I had legally adopted Emily when she was eight.
At least I believed I had.
There had been paperwork.
Court appearances.
A judge.
A photograph afterward where Emily held my hand and smiled so hard her cheeks hurt.
The happiest day of my life.
“What questions?”
“Mr. Reynolds alleges he never voluntarily surrendered his parental rights.”
“That is a lie.”
“I’m not making a determination.”
“I have a court order.”
“I understand.”
“Then why are you calling?”
“Because Mr. Reynolds intends to challenge portions of the record.”
I almost laughed.
“Emily is twenty-four.”
“Yes.”
“You cannot reverse her childhood.”
“No.”
“You cannot take custody of an adult.”
“Correct.”
“So what does he want?”
The attorney paused.
That pause told me this was not about family.
“He believes the adoption involved fraud.”
“By whom?”
“I’d prefer to discuss this formally.”
“By whom?”
“Sarah Carter.”
I looked at the office door.
For the first time in nineteen years, the idea of going home made my stomach hurt.
“What fraud?”
“Mr. Reynolds claims his signature was forged.”
My knees nearly gave out.
Jason stood.
“David?”
I held up one hand.
“To what document?”
“The consent to termination of parental rights.”
I remembered the hearing.
The lawyer had told me Michael signed.
Sarah cried afterward.
I thought they were tears of relief.
“Send me everything.”
“I can’t disclose privileged documents without authorization.”
“You called me.”
“At Mr. Reynolds’s request.”
“Then tell him if he wants anything from me, he can stop playing games.”
“I’ll relay that.”
I ended the call.
Jason looked terrified.
“What happened?”
I told him.
He sat down again.
“That’s insane.”
“Yes.”
“Is it possible?”
“I don’t know.”
I hated those words now.
I dialed the lawyer who handled the adoption.
Disconnected.
I searched his name.
He had retired twelve years ago.
I found another number connected to a legal association.
Voicemail.
I left a message.
Then I called Sarah.
She answered immediately.
“David?”
“Did Michael sign the adoption consent?”
Silence.
I closed my eyes.
“Sarah.”
“Yes.”
“That wasn’t an answer.”
“I need you to come home.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“Was his signature forged?”
“I didn’t forge it.”
The room tilted.
“That is not what I asked.”
“David, come home.”
“Who forged it?”
“I don’t know.”
I almost threw the phone.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I swear.”
“Who gave the document to the lawyer?”
“Michael did.”
“He says he didn’t.”
“He’s lying.”
“Then why didn’t you simply say that?”
“Because…”
Her voice broke.
“Because what?”
“Because I never watched him sign it.”
I pressed my fingers against my forehead.
“Start talking.”
“He agreed to the adoption.”
“When?”
“Over the phone.”
“You spoke to him?”
“Yes.”
“You told me you hadn’t heard from him in years.”
“I know.”
Another lie.
Another memory rewritten in seconds.
“When did you speak to him?”
“A few weeks before the filing.”
“And?”
“He said he would sign if I paid him.”
“How much?”
“Five thousand.”
I almost laughed.
Michael had turned fatherhood into a transaction.
“Did you pay?”
“Yes.”
“With my money?”
“No. Mine.”
“At least there’s that.”
“David.”
“Continue.”
“He said he would mail the document back.”
“Did he?”
“A signed document arrived.”
“You didn’t see him sign it.”
“No.”
“And now he says it was forged.”
“Yes.”
“Could it have been?”
“I don’t know.”
I ended the call.
Jason stood near the window.
“What are you going to do?”
“I need records.”
“Can I help?”
“Yes.”
He looked surprised.
“Go home to Emily.”
“What?”
“Don’t tell her what I’m doing.”
“That feels wrong.”
“So did hiding Michael for three months.”
He flinched.
I regretted it immediately.
“You’re right,” I said. “That wasn’t fair.”
“It’s okay.”
“No. It isn’t.”
I sat.
“Just stay close to her. Listen. If Michael pressures her, tell me.”
“What kind of pressure?”
“Anything involving money, documents, signatures.”
Jason’s face hardened.
“You think he wants something from her.”
“I know he wants something.”
“What?”
“That’s what I intend to find out.”
The retired adoption lawyer called me the next morning.
His name was Frank Bell.
His voice sounded older than I remembered.
“David Carter. Good Lord.”
“Frank.”
“I haven’t heard that name in years. How’s Emily?”
“Getting married.”
“Already?”
“She’s twenty-four.”
He laughed.
“That will make a man feel ancient.”
I didn’t laugh.
“Frank, I need to ask you about the adoption.”
His tone changed.
“All right.”
“Do you remember Michael Reynolds’s consent form?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
My heart beat faster.
“Did you see him sign it?”
“No.”
“Who gave it to you?”
“Sarah.”
I gripped my desk.
“Did you verify it?”
“It was notarized.”
“By whom?”
“David, this was sixteen years ago.”
“Please.”
Papers rustled on his end.
“You’ve caught me at home. I don’t have the file.”
“Where is it?”
“Old closed files were transferred when I retired.”
“To whom?”
“Let me check.”
Ten minutes later, I had a firm name.
By noon, I was sitting in a conference room.
The file sat in front of me.
My hands shook when the attorney opened it.
There it was.
Consent to adoption.
Michael Reynolds.
Signed.
Notarized.
I looked at the notary.
Name: Linda Marsh.
“Can you find her?”
The attorney typed.
Then frowned.
“What?”
“She died eight years ago.”
Of course.
“Anything else?”
He examined the stamp.
“Her commission was valid on the date.”
“So the document is valid?”
“Not automatically. If the signature was forged, notarization can be challenged.”
I stared at Michael’s signature.
I had seen it before?
Maybe on old birthday cards.
A check.
Something.
Then I noticed a second document.
“What’s that?”
The attorney slid it over.
A handwritten letter.
To Sarah.
I started reading.
Sarah,
You win.
I’ll sign your paper.
I know you think he can be a better father than me.
Maybe he can.
But if Emily ever asks, you tell her I didn’t give her away because I didn’t love her.
I gave up because you made it clear there was no place left for me.
M.
My hands went cold.
“What is this?”
“It was included in the file.”
“I’ve never seen it.”
The attorney said nothing.
I photographed the letter.
Then I drove home.
Sarah was waiting.
I placed my phone on the table and showed her the picture.
She stared.
Her face collapsed.
“You knew about this.”
“Yes.”
“You kept it from Emily.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She was eight.”
“She isn’t eight now.”
“I know.”
“You let her believe he signed because he didn’t care.”
“He did take the money.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“He used her as leverage for years.”
“That is not the same thing.”
Sarah began to cry.
“I was trying to protect her.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“You were trying to control the story.”
Her head snapped up.
“That’s what Michael says.”
“I don’t care what Michael says.”
“You sound exactly like him.”
That hurt.
I stepped back.
Sarah immediately regretted it.
“David, I’m sorry.”
I looked toward the stairs.
The house suddenly felt full of ghosts.
Old conversations.
Half-truths.
Things I believed because I trusted my wife.
“Did you ever tell Emily he wrote that letter?”
“No.”
“Does Michael know you kept it?”
“I don’t know.”
The door opened behind us.
Emily walked in.
Her eyes were red.
Jason stood behind her.
She looked at the phone on the table.
Then at her mother.
“I know about the letter.”
Sarah froze.
Emily’s face hardened.
“Michael showed me a copy.”
I stared at her.
“For how long?”
“Three months.”
I laughed softly.
Of course.
Emily stepped toward me.
“Dad, I wanted to tell you.”
“But?”
“Mom begged me not to.”
I looked at Sarah.
She looked shattered.
Emily continued.
“Michael said Mom kept him away.”
“He also took money to leave.”
“I know.”
“He threatened her.”
“I know.”
“He disappeared for twenty years.”
“I know!”
Her voice cracked.
“Do you think I don’t know?”
Tears spilled down her cheeks.
“Do you think I haven’t spent every night trying to understand how the man who left me and the mother who lied to me can both somehow be telling part of the truth?”
I said nothing.
She looked at me.
“You were the only simple thing.”
That sentence broke something in me.
“What does that mean?”
“You were Dad.”
“Were?”
She covered her face.
“That’s not what I meant.”
I felt the distance growing again.
“Then explain.”
She lowered her hands.
“I knew you would hate Michael.”
“I don’t hate him.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I hate what he did.”
“And I was afraid if I chose to know him, you’d think I was betraying you.”
I stared.
“You did betray me.”
She flinched.
“Not because you saw him. Because you hid me.”
Her mouth trembled.
“I’m sorry.”
Jason touched her shoulder.
She pulled away.
“There’s one more thing,” Emily whispered.
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
She looked at Sarah.
Then back at me.
“Michael asked me to sign something yesterday.”
I went completely still.
“What?”
“He said it was paperwork connected to his estate.”
“Did you sign it?”
Emily hesitated.
May you like
And I knew before she answered.
“Yes.”
