“His name is Thomas Bennett.”
For a second, I didn’t recognize the name.
Then Rachel whispered:
“Dad?”
My former husband had been gone for fourteen years.
I hadn’t spoken to him in twelve.
“Why is Thomas here?”
Dana held out a visitor slip.
“He arrived about twenty minutes ago asking for Rachel and the social worker assigned to the baby.”
I took the paper.
Thomas knew Rachel had delivered.
He knew there was a problem.
And according to the front desk note, he had told them he possessed information about “an arrangement made before the birth.”
I read it twice.
“Who called him?”
Dana looked at Rachel.
Rachel shook her head.
“Not me.”
“Michael?”
“I don’t know.”
Dana continued.
“He says he has messages connected to the ultimatum.”
Rachel’s fingers closed around the blanket.
“Tell him to leave.”
“Rachel—”
“He left me fourteen years ago. He doesn’t get to walk in here because there’s suddenly a baby.”
Dana nodded.
“That’s your decision.”
Then she added:
“But he says the messages explain why someone wanted you frightened before the delivery.”
Rachel stared at the door.
“Someone?”
Dana nodded.
“He says Michael wasn’t the person who started this.”
That changed Rachel’s expression completely.
“What?”
A small cry came from the bassinet.
Rachel immediately looked down.
Her son had kicked loose part of his blanket.
Without thinking, she reached in and tucked it back around him.
I watched her do it.
So did Dana.
Rachel kept her hand there.
“Bring my father up.”
“Your Mother Was Never the Target”
Thomas appeared ten minutes later carrying a brown envelope.
He looked older than I remembered. Gray hair. Thinner shoulders. Same habit of rubbing his thumb across the edge of whatever he was holding when he was nervous.
He stopped inside the doorway.
“Rachel.”
She didn’t answer.
His eyes moved to the bassinet.
Rachel immediately stepped between him and the baby.
Thomas stopped.
“I’m not here to touch him.”
“Good.”
His face tightened.
“You have every right to hate me.”
“I didn’t ask for an apology.”
Thomas nodded.
“Then I won’t waste your time with one.”
Rachel pointed at the envelope.
“Why are you here?”
He looked at Dana.
“Because six weeks ago, Patricia Turner contacted me.”
Rachel went completely still.
I stepped closer.
“Michael’s mother?”
“Yes.”
“Why would she contact you?”
Thomas looked at me.
“Because she didn’t want you warned.”
My stomach dropped.
Dana held out her hand.
“What did she send you?”
Thomas gave her the envelope.
“Printouts of messages. Emails. Screenshots. I kept the originals too.”
Rachel whispered:
“Why?”
Thomas looked at her.
“Because something about it felt wrong.”
“You disappear for fourteen years, and suddenly your instincts work?”
He accepted that without defending himself.
“Apparently too late.”
Dana began reading.
Nobody spoke for almost a minute.
Then she looked up.
“Thomas, did Patricia explain why she contacted you?”
He nodded.
“She wanted another relative to pressure Rachel.”
Rachel’s face went white.
“Pressure me to do what?”
Thomas looked at her.
“Agree that Michael should control what happened after the birth.”
Rachel gripped the rail of the bassinet.
“And when you refused?”
Thomas hesitated.
“She stopped answering me.”
Dana turned another page.
Her expression changed.
“There’s more here.”
I stepped toward her.
“What?”
She didn’t hand me the page.
“Patricia appears to have been collecting statements about Rachel’s ability to parent.”
Rachel looked at me.
I felt sick.
Thomas spoke before I could.
“Your mother wasn’t the target, Rachel.”
Rachel frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“Patricia didn’t want to take your baby because your mother thought you couldn’t handle him.”
He pointed toward the papers in Dana’s hands.
“She wanted your mother saying those things because it made her plan easier.”
I looked at Thomas.
“What plan?”
He swallowed.
“Michael was supposed to bring the baby home.”
Rachel shook her head.
“I already know that.”
“Not to his apartment.”
Silence.
Rachel’s fingers tightened around the bassinet rail.
“Where?”
Thomas looked at her.
“His mother’s house.”
Rachel stared at him.
“Why?”
Thomas looked toward Dana.
She gave him a small nod.
He took a breath.
“Because Patricia had been preparing a nursery there for almost four months.”
Rachel stepped backward.
Her knees touched the hospital bed.
“Four months?”
Thomas nodded.
“Before you ever told Michael you were thinking about giving up the baby.”
Rachel’s face crumpled.
I felt the anger rise in me again, but this time I kept my hands still.
Dana gathered the pages.
“We need to verify all of this.”
Thomas nodded.
“I know.”
“And nobody in this room is making a custody decision tonight.”
Rachel looked at her son.
“Did Michael know?”
Thomas didn’t answer.
Rachel looked up sharply.
“Did Michael know?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“It’s the truth.”
Rachel turned toward Dana.
“Call him.”
Dana shook her head.
“Not like this.”
“Then get somebody who can.”
Her voice broke, but she didn’t lower it.
“Because everybody has been making plans for my baby behind my back, and I’m done finding out last.”
For the first time that day, I didn’t interrupt her.
I didn’t correct her.
I didn’t offer to take over.
I sat beside the bassinet.
My grandson’s hand had escaped his blanket again.
I offered him my finger.
His fist closed around it.
Rachel watched me.
“Mom.”
I looked up.
“You’re not going to say you’ll take him?”
“No.”
“Why?”
I glanced at the little hand holding mine.
“Because he isn’t something for any of us to take.”
Rachel sat down beside me.
Thomas remained by the door.
Dana held the envelope that might explain how much of the last several months had been fear, how much had been manipulation, and who had known the plan before Rachel ever walked into that delivery room.
None of us knew yet what would happen next.
But Rachel reached into the bassinet and placed her finger beside mine.
Her son’s tiny hand opened.
Then closed around both.
