Chapter 7 - THE FAMILY HE CHOSE FOR MY CHILD
Grant came back to Atherton because Emily demanded it.
He arrived at eleven the next morning.
Michael was still there.
The moment Grant saw him, the muscles in his face tightened.
“Michael.”
“Grant.”
No handshake.
No shouting.
Men in their sixties rarely needed volume to show thirty years of unfinished hostility.
Emily put the Golden Coast form on the dining table.
“Why the Carters?”
Grant sat.
“Thomas Carter was my father’s client.”
Emily stared.
“And?”
“He and Sarah had been trying to adopt for years.”
“You recommended them.”
“My father did.”
“The form says G. Walker.”
“I delivered the paperwork.”
“That isn’t what the recording says.”
Grant looked at Noah.
“Your mother misunderstood.”
“No,” Emily said. “You’re going to stop hiding inside misunderstandings.”
Grant looked at her.
“I knew them.”
“How well?”
“Tom had been a year ahead of me at Stanford.”
Michael laughed.
“Of course.”
Grant turned.
“You think I wanted this?”
“I think you benefited.”
“Enough.”
Emily struck the table with her palm.
Both men stopped.
“This is not about which one of you deserved me in 1993.”
She pointed at Grant.
“It is about my child.”
He lowered his eyes.
“The Carters were good people.”
Noah’s face hardened.
“They were.”
Grant looked at him.
“I know.”
“How?”
“Your mother told me.”
“No.”
Noah stepped closer.
“How did you know before she contacted you?”
Grant went silent.
Emily stared.
“You kept track of Grace.”
His face gave it away.
“How long?”
“Not continuously.”
“How long?”
Grant rubbed his forehead.
“My father received updates from the agency for the first few years.”
“Why?”
“Eleanor paid support.”
Michael whispered a curse.
Emily remembered the bank transfers.
“She paid the Carters?”
“Through the agency.”
“Did they know?”
“No. They were told it was part of an adoption support fund.”
Noah sat slowly.
“My grandmother Sarah never knew?”
“Not according to Grace.”
Sarah Carter had died when Grace was twenty-eight.
Thomas three years earlier.
Grace had loved them.
Emily was grateful for that.
The gratitude made the theft more complicated, not less.
“What happened after the agency closed?”
Grant looked away.
“My father kept an investigator on retainer.”
Emily stared.
“You monitored her childhood.”
“Once every couple of years.”
“Why?”
“To make sure she was okay.”
“You could have told me.”
“I know.”
“Did my mother know?”
“Yes.”
“She wanted updates?”
“At first.”
“And later?”
“She stopped asking.”
“When?”
“When Grace was about twelve.”
Emily’s stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Michael laughed bitterly.
“Because pretending gets harder when the baby turns into a person.”
Grant looked at him.
“Maybe.”
Emily hated how reasonable he sounded.
“How long did you continue?”
“Until she was eighteen.”
“Without telling me.”
“Yes.”
“What did you learn?”
“That she was healthy. Good student. Played soccer. Went to UC Davis.”
Noah spoke.
“She dropped out when she had me.”
Grant nodded.
“I know.”
Noah stood.
“You know.”
His voice shook.
“You know everything.”
“No.”
“You knew she had me?”
“Yes.”
“You knew my dad left?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know we lost our apartment when I was nine?”
Grant looked down.
Emily stared at him.
“Did you?”
“I knew she had housing trouble.”
“Did you help?”
“Anonymously.”
Noah laughed.
“That Christmas.”
Grant nodded.
A church in Sacramento had paid three months of rent for Grace and Noah after an eviction notice.
Noah had always believed it was a community fund.
Emily felt sick.
“You wanted to play guardian angel from a distance.”
“No.”
“What would you call it?”
“Guilt.”
Grant looked at her.
“I knew what had happened was wrong.”
“When did you know?”
“Long before I admitted it.”
“Then why not tell me?”
“Because every year made telling you worse.”
That was the first explanation Emily believed completely.
Not protection.
Cowardice multiplied by time.
Grant continued.
“When Grace contacted us four years ago, I panicked.”
“You met her.”
“Yes.”
“You lied.”
“Yes.”
“You paid her medical bills.”
“Yes.”
“Then monitored her again.”
“I checked.”
“For what?”
“To make sure she was okay.”
“She wasn’t.”
Grant’s face changed.
“I know.”
Noah stared at him.
“You knew about her pregnancy?”
“Yes.”
Emily’s breath caught.
“When?”
“January.”
“Before she confronted you in February.”
“Yes.”
“Did you know it was high risk?”
“Not at first.”
“What happened?”
“Grace had a cardiology referral.”
Noah looked surprised.
“What?”
Grant reached into his briefcase.
Noah stepped forward.
“What cardiology referral?”
“Your mother had an abnormal echocardiogram.”
Noah shook his head.
“She told me she was fine.”
“She didn’t want you worried.”
Emily almost laughed at the family symmetry.
Everyone protecting everyone with silence.
Grant placed a stack of medical invoices on the table.
“I paid these.”
Noah stared.
Stanford cardiology.
Maternal-fetal medicine.
A specialist in San Francisco.
“You brought her here?”
Grant shook his head.
“She came alone.”
“Did you see her?”
“Twice.”
Emily’s voice went quiet.
“You saw my pregnant daughter twice this year.”
“Yes.”
“Did she ask you to tell me?”
Grant looked at her.
“Yes.”
“Both times?”
“The second.”
“What did you say?”
“That I would.”
Emily stared at him.
“And?”
“I didn’t.”
Noah turned away.
Emily felt something inside her settle.
Not calm.
Decision.
“Why not?”
Grant’s voice cracked.
“Because I was afraid.”
“Of me?”
“Yes.”
“Of losing me.”
“Yes.”
There it was.
Finally.
Not her health.
Not Eleanor.
Not adoption law.
Grant.
He had kept the truth because the truth endangered his marriage.
Emily stood.
“You need to leave.”
“Emily.”
“Not the condo.”
He looked confused.
“My life.”
His face changed.
She continued before he could speak.
“I don’t know what that means legally yet.”
“Please.”
“No.”
He sat as if his legs had weakened.
Then Noah opened Grace’s folder again.
“There’s something weird.”
Emily looked at him.
“What?”
He pulled out a printed bank statement.
One of Grant’s payments toward Grace’s medical care.
Emily saw the date.
March 3.
Then another.
April.
May.
The last transfer had been made the morning Grace went into labor.
$50,000 to UC Davis Medical Center.
Emily looked at Grant.
“You knew she was delivering.”
“Yes.”
“Did she call you?”
“No.”
“How did you know?”
Grant’s expression changed.
Noah looked at the transaction memo.
G.C. MATERNAL CASE — URGENT.
His face hardened.
“Who told you?”
Grant said nothing.
Emily understood.
“You were receiving information from her doctor.”
“No.”
“Then who?”
He looked toward the medical invoices.
“The person who arranged the referral.”
“Who?”
Grant swallowed.
“Allison.”
Emily stared.
Her younger sister.
May you like
The woman who had sat beside Emily every anniversary of the baby’s death.
“Allison knew Grace was alive?”
