Chapter 3 - THE MAN BESIDE HIS MOTHER
Rachel called Evelyn immediately.
No greeting.
No small talk.
“What is this picture?”
Evelyn didn’t answer right away.
“Where are you?”
“At home.”
“Is Grant there?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Rachel’s skin prickled.
“Why is that good?”
“Because there are things I never told him.”
Rachel sat down slowly.
“About Dr. Vale?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know him?”
“He was my fertility doctor.”
Rachel stared at the wall.
Grant was thirty-eight years old.
The photograph had been taken thirty-nine years earlier.
“Oh my God.”
“Rachel, don’t jump to conclusions.”
“Then give me another conclusion to jump to.”
Evelyn sighed.
“Walter and I had trouble conceiving.”
Rachel had never heard that.
Grant’s father, Walter, was the kind of man who spoke of his three children as proof of his legacy.
“We tried for almost four years,” Evelyn continued. “Eventually, a doctor referred us to Adrian Vale. He was young then. Brilliant. People treated him like a miracle worker.”
“What treatment did he do?”
“I don’t remember all the details.”
“You remember.”
Silence.
“Evelyn.”
“It was artificial insemination.”
Rachel’s pulse jumped.
“With Walter’s sperm?”
“That’s what we were told.”
Rachel closed her eyes.
“Was Grant conceived there?”
“Yes.”
There it was.
One word.
One door opening onto a hallway nobody wanted to walk down.
“Did you ever have a DNA test?”
“No.”
“Did Walter know?”
“Of course Walter knew about the treatment.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Evelyn’s voice sharpened.
“Rachel, watch yourself.”
Rachel almost admired the instinct.
Even terrified, Evelyn could still become offended.
“Your son publicly destroyed my reputation tonight and rejected a child he agreed to conceive. I’m fresh out of patience.”
Evelyn went quiet.
Rachel continued.
“Why did you tell me to call you before doing anything with the clinic?”
“Because Adrian called me.”
Rachel stood so fast the chair scraped across the floor.
“When?”
“Two days ago.”
“What did he say?”
“He asked whether anyone from Riverstone had contacted the family.”
“Why would he contact you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Evelyn.”
“I don’t know!”
For the first time, Rachel heard fear.
“He said old records were being misunderstood. He said people were trying to destroy his reputation.”
“He hasn’t practiced there in years.”
“He helped found Riverstone.”
Rachel froze.
“What?”
“Before it was Riverstone, it was Vale Reproductive Medicine.”
Rachel opened the clinic history page online.
The modern website had been taken down, but archived pages remained.
There he was.
ADRIAN VALE, M.D.
FOUNDER AND MEDICAL DIRECTOR, 1981–2004.
BOARD ADVISOR, 2004–2018.
Rachel felt sick.
“So he had access.”
“I don’t know.”
“He had decades of access.”
“Rachel, please. Don’t tell Grant yet.”
“Why?”
“I need time.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“What are you hiding?”
Evelyn started crying.
Not softly.
Not elegantly.
The sound was raw.
Rachel had known Evelyn for eleven years and had seen her cry exactly once, at her own mother’s funeral.
“Evelyn?”
“I found something after Walter had his heart surgery.”
Rachel waited.
“He needed blood. There were complications. They did typing.”
“And?”
“The doctor mentioned something strange.”
Rachel’s throat tightened.
“What?”
“Grant’s blood type shouldn’t have been possible.”
Rachel shut her eyes.
“Did you investigate?”
“I couldn’t.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I was afraid.”
“For thirty-eight years?”
“You don’t understand what families were like then.”
“No. But I understand what fear does to children when adults protect secrets.”
Evelyn inhaled sharply.
Rachel regretted it for half a second.
Then she remembered Maddie’s face.
“Send me everything you have.”
“I don’t have everything.”
“Then send what you have.”
A message arrived moments later.
Three photographs.
One clinic receipt.
One old Christmas card signed Adrian.
Then a scan of a handwritten note.
Rachel zoomed in.
Evelyn—
The boy is healthy. That is what matters. Some truths exist only to cause pain. Let this one sleep.
—A.
Rachel felt cold from her scalp to her fingertips.
Her front door opened.
Rachel spun around.
Grant stood in the entryway.
He held his house key in one hand.
May you like
And he had clearly heard enough.
“What boy?” he asked.
