The morning after we visited Lacey's grave, Anna called before breakfast.
I almost didn't answer.
For one irrational second, I was afraid that something had happened to her. The fear surprised me. Three weeks earlier, I hadn't known she existed. Now her silence could make my chest tighten.
“Hello?”
“Jill?”
“Yes.”
“Did I wake you?”
“No. I was already up.”
There was a pause.
“Can I come over?”
“Of course.”
“I need to ask you something.”
Her voice sounded different.
More serious.
“What is it?”
“I'd rather ask you in person.”
“All right.”
She arrived twenty minutes later.
Jeremy was in the kitchen when she walked through the door. He had barely slept, and the dark circles beneath his eyes made him look older than he had the day before.
Anna noticed.
“You okay?”
He nodded.
“Just thinking.”
“About Mom?”
“About everything.”
Anna put her purse on a chair.
“I talked to Sarah last night.”
Sarah was her adoptive mother.
I had never met her.
“How did that go?”
Anna looked at the floor.
“She cried.”
“Why?”
“Because I told her I found my biological parents.”
I exchanged a glance with Jeremy.
“What did she say?”
“She said she was afraid this day would come.”
Anna sat down.
“She said she always knew I might look.”
I listened carefully.
“She also said there was something she never told me.”
Jeremy pulled out a chair.
“What?”
Anna looked at him.
“She said she received money.”
The kitchen went silent.
“From whom?” I asked.
“She doesn't know.”
“You don't know?”
“She said it came through the adoption agency.”
Jeremy's face tightened.
“Money for what?”
“Expenses, she thought.”
“What kind of expenses?”
“Medical expenses.”
I felt a chill.
“Whose?”
Anna looked at me.
“Lacey's.”
I sat down.
That changed the shape of the story again.
“Your adoptive parents were paid because your mother was sick?”
“I don't know.”
“Did Sarah explain?”
“She said the agency told them the money was connected to legal and medical costs.”
Jeremy stared at the table.
“Evelyn.”
I looked at him.
“You think my mother paid them?”
“I don't know.”
“But you suspect it.”
“Yes.”
Anna opened her purse.
“She gave me this.”
She placed a bank envelope on the table.
It was old.
The paper had yellowed.
Inside was a photocopy of a cashier's check.
The purchaser's name was obscured.
But the receiving account belonged to the adoption agency.
The amount was large enough to make me sit back.
“When was this?”
“2005.”
The same year Anna had been born.
Jeremy stood.
“I need to call the attorney.”
“Wait.”
I put my hand over his.
“Let's understand what we have first.”
Anna looked between us.
“I don't want to turn my parents into criminals.”
“We aren't accusing anyone,” I said.
“But something happened.”
“Yes.”
She looked at Jeremy.
“Did your mother pay them to take me?”
He shook his head.
“I don't know.”
“Would she?”
He hesitated.
“She believed she was saving you.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“I don't know what she was capable of.”
Anna absorbed that.
Then she said quietly, “I think I need to know.”
We spent the rest of the morning sorting through documents.
The attorney confirmed that the payment had been legitimate, but the description attached to it was vague.
Medical assistance.
No names.
No explanation.
The adoption had been legal.
There was no evidence that money had been exchanged for the child herself.
That distinction mattered.
But it didn't answer the larger question.
Why had Evelyn been involved at all?
By afternoon, Margaret called.
“I wondered when you'd find the payment.”
Jeremy closed his eyes.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because Evelyn asked me not to.”
“She asked you to keep everything from me.”
“She believed you were better off.”
He laughed bitterly.
“Everyone believed they knew what was better for me.”
Margaret sighed.
“She was afraid you'd go looking for Anna.”
“I would have.”
“I know.”
“And Lacey?”
“She wanted to.”
“When did she learn?”
“About ten years ago.”
I looked at Jeremy.
Margaret continued.
“She came to me after seeing Anna.”
“The grocery store.”
“Yes.”
“Did Anna recognize her?”
“No.”
“Did Lacey approach her?”
“She couldn't.”
“Why?”
“Because Anna was with her adoptive mother.”
Margaret paused.
“Lacey followed them.”
I felt a heaviness in my chest.
“For how long?”
“Two blocks.”
“Then what?”
“She sat in her car and cried.”
Jeremy looked away.
“She told me she wanted to introduce herself.”
“But she didn't.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because she believed Anna deserved to keep the life she had.”
I thought about the young woman sitting at our kitchen table.
She had loving adoptive parents.
A home.
A history.
A name.
Lacey had feared destroying that.
And yet she had left behind letters and photographs because she couldn't bear to disappear completely.
That contradiction seemed to define her.
She loved Anna enough to stay away.
She loved her enough to leave evidence behind.
That evening, Anna asked to stay for dinner.
I cooked.
Jeremy set the table.
Anna watched us.
“You've done this a lot.”
“What?”
“Worked together without talking.”
I smiled faintly.
“Twenty-two years.”
“Were you happy?”
I looked at Jeremy.
“Yes.”
He answered at the same time.
“Yes.”
Anna smiled.
“Good.”
We ate quietly.
Halfway through dinner, she asked, “Did you ever want children?”
I almost dropped my fork.
“We tried.”
Jeremy looked at me.
“We did?”
I nodded.
“Years ago.”
He looked surprised.
“I didn't remember.”
“You forgot?”
“I didn't forget.”
His voice softened.
“I thought you didn't want to talk about it.”
I stared at him.
“We stopped trying after the doctor said there was a low chance.”
Anna looked down.
“I'm sorry.”
“You don't have to be.”
She hesitated.
“Maybe that's why Mom wanted me found.”
I looked at her.
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe she knew you wanted a child.”
I hadn't considered that.
Neither had Jeremy.
Anna continued.
“Maybe she thought finding me would give you something back.”
“No,” I said.
“She wouldn't have.”
“Why?”
“Because you aren't something that was taken from us.”
Anna smiled.
“I know.”
She reached across the table.
“I'm just saying maybe she knew you'd understand.”
I looked at her hand.
Then took it.
That night, after Anna left, Jeremy and I sat in the living room.
He didn't turn on the television.
“I should have told you everything.”
“Yes.”
“I know that doesn't fix it.”
“No.”
“I don't expect it to.”
I looked at him.
“Do you regret marrying Lacey?”
He was quiet.
“I regret the secrecy.”
“That isn't the same answer.”
“No.”
He looked at the floor.
“I don't regret being there for her.”
I nodded.
“I don't want you to.”
He looked at me.
“I thought you'd say I should.”
“I don't want to become someone who needs another person's suffering to prove my marriage mattered.”
He stared at me.
I continued.
“She was dying.”
“I know.”
“She needed you.”
“I know.”
“And you loved her.”
He swallowed.
“Yes.”
I reached for his hand.
“I can live with that.”
His eyes filled.
“But I can't live with being lied to again.”
“You won't.”
I believed he meant it.
The next morning, the attorney called.
“We found something.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“The original medical records.”
“For Lacey?”
“Yes.”
“What's wrong with them?”
“There was a note.”
“What note?”
“A handwritten notation from a physician.”
I waited.
“It says Lacey was advised to disclose the existence of a child before beginning treatment.”
I sat down.
“She knew.”
“Yes.”
“And she didn't?”
“Not immediately.”
“Why?”
“The note says she was afraid of losing access to treatment.”
I closed my eyes.
The cancer.
The marriage.
The adoption.
The secrecy.
All of it had been tangled together.
“Is there more?”
“Yes.”
He hesitated.
“The physician's name is Dr. Carter.”
David.
Jeremy's coworker.
The man who had first told me about Lacey.
I stood.
“We need to talk to him.”
That afternoon, David met us.
He looked exhausted.
When I asked about the note, he sighed.
“I knew eventually you'd find it.”
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell us?”
“Because Lacey asked me not to.”
I felt anger rise.
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
David looked at Jeremy.
“She was terrified.”
“Of what?”
“That if the truth came out, you'd abandon her.”
Jeremy shook his head.
“I wouldn't have.”
“I know.”
David looked at me.
“But she didn't.”
He paused.
“There's something else.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“Lacey's treatment records weren't the only thing affected.”
He opened a folder.
“There was another medical file attached to Anna's birth.”
Jeremy leaned forward.
“What file?”
David placed a photocopy on the table.
A newborn examination.
The baby's name was blank.
Mother: Lacey Burcham.
Father: Jeremy Tolley.
I stared.
The father line had been crossed out.
Beside it was another name.
Thomas Reed.
The same false name from the adoption.
But beneath that, in handwriting almost too faint to see, someone had written:
Biological father confirmed.
Jeremy.
He looked at the page.
His hand began to shake.
Someone had known.
Someone had documented the truth.
And someone had deliberately hidden it.
David looked at us.
“The question isn't whether your mother knew.”
He paused.
“The question is who changed the record.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 10: The Altered Medical Record Pointed Toward One Person, but the Truth About Her Motive Was Nothing Like the Betrayal We Expected
The Errand That Should Have Taken Ten Minutes Instead Opened a Door My Marriage Had Kept Locked for Twenty-Two Years
Part 9 of 15
