Chapter 2: Two Female Infants
“Mom?”” I stared at Denise.
“What are you talking about?””
She stepped inside and shut the door behind her.
The folder shook in her hands.
“Give me the recorder,” she said.
I tightened my grip.
“No. Not until somebody tells me what is happening.””
Simone moved toward the door.
My mother immediately stepped in front of her.
“Stay where you are.””
The command was so sharp that Simone stopped mid-stride.
I had seen Denise angry before. I had watched her confront a landlord who tried to cheat my father out of his security deposit. I had seen her stand up to a doctor who dismissed Ava's fever.
But I had never heard her speak to Simone as if she were facing someone dangerous.
“Denise,” Simone said, forcing a brittle smile, “this is a private conversation between Caleb and me.””
“Not anymore.””
“You're upsetting Ava.””
My mother looked at my daughter.
Ava pressed herself against my side, her little lavender dress wrinkled where she had clutched it.
Then Denise looked back at Simone.
“You should have thought about that before you brought this into his home.””
“His home?”” Simone repeated.
“We're about to get married.””
“Not if I have anything to say about it.””
“Mom!”” I stepped between them.
“Stop talking around me. What is in that folder?””
Denise lowered her eyes.
For a second, I thought she might refuse to answer.
Then she walked to the dressing table and laid the folder beside a silver tray of untouched champagne. Its edges were worn, and a faded hospital label clung to the front. A crease ran down the middle, as if someone had folded it in half and carried it for years.
I recognized the hospital's name.
It was the same hospital where I had been born.
“Why do you have my birth records?”” I asked.
Denise opened the folder.
“Because I should have told you a long time ago.””
My heart began pounding.
“Told me what?””
She removed a yellowed page and flattened it with both hands.
“Your birth was complicated. You were premature, and your biological mother—”
“Mom, my mother died when I was young. I know that.””
“I know you do.””
“Then stop talking like I'm a stranger.””
Denise flinched.
Simone seized the moment.
“Caleb, she's been under stress. Let me explain everything after the ceremony.””
I turned toward her.
“After the ceremony? You just heard your own voice saying my daughter would be sent away.””
“She misunderstood.””
“She is seven years old, Simone. She understood enough to hide from you.””
Simone's jaw tightened.
“I was discussing a legal arrangement.””
“What legal arrangement?””
She said nothing.
My mother pushed the paper toward me.
“Read the heading.””
I looked down.
The document was a hospital delivery record, faded but legible. The paper smelled faintly of dust and the sharp, medicinal scent of an old filing cabinet.
My eyes moved across the printed lines until they reached a sentence written in block letters.
*TWO FEMALE INFANTS DELIVERED.*
I read it once.
Then again.
The room seemed to tilt.
“Two?”” I whispered.
Denise pressed a hand over her mouth.
Simone went completely still.
I looked up at my mother.
“Were there twins?””
She didn't answer quickly enough.
“Mom. Were there two babies?””
“Yes.””
The word landed harder than a slap.
Ava peered around my arm.
“Daddy?””
I barely heard her.
I stared at the document, searching for something that would make the sentence less impossible. A clerical error. A crossed-out name. A note explaining that one baby had been transferred to another hospital.
There was nothing.
Two female infants.
My fingers began to shake.
“Who were they?””
Denise closed her eyes.
“You need to understand that everything happened very quickly.””
“No.”” I struck the paper with one finger.
“I need to understand why you have a document saying two babies were delivered, and nobody ever told me.””
Simone folded her arms across her gown.
“Because it doesn't change anything about our lives today.””
I turned to her slowly.
“How can you possibly know that?””
“Because the past is the past.””
“Then why are you afraid of this paper?””
Her eyes flashed.
“I'm not afraid of a piece of paper.””
“Your face says otherwise.””
For the first time, Simone's carefully arranged expression cracked. She looked at Denise with an anger so immediate that I knew they were no longer arguing about my wedding.
They were arguing about something that had begun long before I met either of them.
Denise reached into the folder again and removed another sheet.
“I kept this because I couldn't bring myself to destroy it,” she said.
“I told myself that one day I would find the courage to explain.””
“You've had my entire life,” I said.
“How much courage did you need?””
She began to cry.
“I was trying to protect you.””
“From what?””
“From losing the family you had.””
I looked at Ava.
She was watching all three adults with frightened, searching eyes.
I crouched beside her and gently fixed one of her pearl clips.
“Baby, I need you to stay right here beside me, okay?””
“Are you angry with Grandma?””
I glanced at Denise.
“I don't know what I am yet.””
Ava nodded solemnly, as if that answer was somehow worse than anger.
Behind me, Simone picked up her bouquet.
“We cannot do this here,” she said.
“There are two hundred guests downstairs. People are waiting.””
I stood.
“Let them wait.””
“Caleb, you are about to make a decision you can't take back.””
“Then give me one reason to trust you.””
She opened her mouth.
Closed it.
I held up the hospital record.
“Who left the hospital with one baby?””
Denise made a small, broken sound.
Simone's bouquet slipped in her hand, crushing several white rose petals against the satin ribbon.
I looked between them.
My mother was crying.
My bride had gone pale.
And neither woman would answer.
Then Ava tugged at my sleeve.
“Daddy,” she whispered, “there was something else on the recorder.””
I turned toward her.
“What do you mean?””
She looked at Simone, then at the small black device in my hand.
“I didn't play the whole thing.””
Simone lunged forward.
“Give that to me!””
I pulled the recorder out of her reach.
“Don't move.””
She stopped, breathing hard.
Ava's eyes filled with tears again.
“I heard her say another name,” she whispered.
My mother's face changed.
Not confusion.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
“Ava,” Denise said, her voice barely audible.
“What name?””
My daughter swallowed.
May you like
Then she looked directly at Simone.
And spoke the name that made my bride drop her bouquet.
