“Rebecca?”
The name came out so loudly that Rachel looked through the small window in Emma’s hospital-room door.
I turned away before she could read my face.
Anna stood beside me, still holding Daniel’s newer will.
“That’s impossible,” I said into the phone. “Rebecca died in 1982.”
“I know.”
“My fertility procedure happened eight years later.”
“I know that too.”
“Then she could not have told Thomas to use Samuel’s genetic material.”
“Not specifically for your procedure.”
I closed my eyes.
Klein continued.
“She gave Thomas instructions years earlier. Daniel initially misunderstood what those instructions meant.”
Anna moved closer.
I put the call on speaker.
“Explain.”
“I would rather show you.”
“I buried my husband yesterday. My granddaughter is waiting for a bone marrow biopsy. I have spent the last day discovering that half my marriage was built around things everyone decided I should learn later. You will explain now.”
Silence.
Then Klein said, “All right.”
He told us Daniel had hired him twelve years earlier, shortly after discovering that Rachel was Anna’s biological daughter.
At first, the assignment had been narrow.
Find Anna.
Confirm Rachel’s adoption.
Determine whether Michael and Rachel shared biological ancestry.
Daniel had expected the investigation to end there.
It did not.
“When the first DNA testing excluded Daniel as Michael’s biological father,” Klein said, “he asked me to investigate St. Matthew’s.”
“That part I know.”
“What you don’t know is that I found references to a reproductive research program Thomas Morgan participated in before Rebecca died.”
Anna’s face tightened at her mother’s name.
“What kind of research?” I asked.
“Experimental cryopreservation. Fertility preservation. Storage of reproductive tissue.”
“And Samuel participated?”
“Yes, but not voluntarily in the way the surviving records suggested.”
I looked at Anna.
She looked as confused as I felt.
“What does that mean?”
“In 1979 Samuel was hospitalized after a construction accident.”
Margaret had mentioned he worked construction.
“He suffered injuries?”
“Severe enough to require surgery. Before the operation, Thomas persuaded him to contribute samples to a research project.”
“That sounds voluntary.”
“On paper.”
“What actually happened?”
“Samuel says he signed forms while medicated and remembers almost nothing about them.”
I felt anger rise.
“Thomas used his own brother?”
“Thomas used many people.”
There was something in Klein’s tone that made me pause.
“How many?”
“At least fourteen cases are questionable.”
My grip tightened around the phone.
“Fourteen children?”
“I didn’t say children. Fourteen cases involving stored reproductive material, altered records, or procedures Thomas could access.”
The distinction did little to comfort me.
Anna whispered, “Why would my mother be involved?”
Klein heard her.
“Is that Anna?”
“Yes.”
There was a pause.
“Ms. Hale, what I’m going to say about Rebecca comes from letters, medical notes, and one recorded interview. It may not capture what she believed at every stage.”
Anna folded her arms tightly.
“Tell me.”
“Rebecca became concerned about Thomas before her death.”
“Because of the pills?”
“Partly.”
Klein said that during Rebecca’s treatment for addiction, she began accusing Thomas of keeping unauthorized biological samples from patients and research participants.
At first, her family dismissed the accusations.
Rebecca was unstable.
Using drugs.
Paranoid at times.
Easy to disbelieve.
“Daniel believed her,” Klein said.
I frowned.
“Then why didn’t he report Thomas?”
“He tried.”
“When?”
“1981.”
The hospital altercation.
Daniel punching Thomas.
The newspaper clipping had reduced the incident to an angry man striking a physician.
“What happened?”
“Daniel went to St. Matthew’s administration. Thomas convinced them Rebecca’s accusations were symptoms of addiction and that Daniel was enabling her paranoia.”
Anna sat heavily in the nearest chair.
“My mother knew.”
“She suspected.”
“What exactly did she ask Thomas to do?”
Klein was quiet.
“Preserve Samuel’s samples.”
I stared at the phone.
“Why?”
“Rebecca believed Thomas had destroyed or mislabeled material belonging to other participants. She wanted Samuel’s material preserved because she thought it might someday prove what Thomas had done.”
“That makes no sense. How would sperm prove anything?”
“It wouldn’t by itself.”
“Then what was she trying to preserve?”
“Evidence.”
Anna leaned toward the phone.
“Evidence of what?”
Klein exhaled.
“That Thomas was secretly maintaining a private tissue archive outside St. Matthew’s authorized program.”
I remembered his words.
A second storage facility.
“Where?”
“Originally in a restricted pathology storage area. Later, apparently, at a private laboratory.”
“And Rebecca knew?”
“She discovered invoices.”
“What did she do?”
“She copied them.”
“Where are the copies?”
“Daniel found them among Margaret’s father’s papers.”
I nearly laughed from exhaustion.
“Apparently every dead person in this family kept a private archive.”
Klein did not respond.
“What does any of this have to do with my procedure?”
“That took Daniel years to understand.”
I looked through Emma’s window.
Rachel was sitting beside the bed, stroking her daughter’s hair.
“Then help me understand faster.”
“Rebecca wanted Samuel’s sample protected from Thomas. She asked a laboratory technician she trusted to move it.”
“Who?”
“Robert Ames.”
The dead technician Judith had mentioned.
“He moved it?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“To another storage unit.”
“Then Thomas found it.”
“Eventually.”
“How?”
“After Rebecca died, Thomas went through her belongings.”
Anna whispered, “He found the records.”
“Yes.”
“And took Samuel’s sample back?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“That is where Rebecca’s role ends.”
Relief crossed Anna’s face so quickly it hurt to see.
Rebecca had not planned what happened to me.
She had tried to stop her brother.
Thomas had taken her attempt to preserve evidence and turned it into another weapon.
“So when you said Rebecca told him to—”
“I said someone told Thomas. I should have been clearer. Rebecca instructed that Samuel’s material be preserved, not used.”
My anger flared.
“That is a very important difference.”
“You’re right.”
“Then who told Thomas to use it on me?”
Silence.
“Klein.”
“We believe it was his father.”
Margaret’s father.
Anna’s grandfather.
The man who had hidden Daniel’s letters.
“Why?”
“Because Daniel found correspondence between them.”
“What did it say?”
“That Daniel needed to understand what it meant to raise a child carrying Morgan blood.”
I sat down.
Anna stared at me.
“This was revenge.”
“Yes.”
“Against Daniel.”
“Yes.”
“And I was simply available.”
Klein did not answer.
He did not need to.
I had been reduced to a convenient body in an old family feud I did not know existed.
“What did Daniel do when he learned this?”
“He wanted to confront Samuel.”
“Why Samuel? He was another victim.”
“Daniel did not understand that initially.”
“Did he eventually?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Last year.”
The timeline shifted again.
Daniel had spent years believing Samuel might have participated.
Then learned he had not.
“What did Samuel tell him?”
“That Thomas visited him in 1990.”
I stood.
“Samuel told Michael he hadn’t seen Thomas in years.”
“He hadn’t before that visit.”
“What happened?”
“Thomas appeared at Samuel’s home in Arizona shortly before your treatment.”
My skin prickled.
“What did he want?”
“To reconcile.”
“Did Samuel believe him?”
“No.”
“Then?”
“They drank together.”
Anna whispered, “Oh.”
I understood.
“Thomas drugged him?”
“We cannot prove that.”
“But?”
“Samuel remembers becoming unusually ill after two drinks. He woke the next morning with a bandage on his arm and no memory of several hours.”
“Blood?”
“Possibly.”
“But Michael was conceived from sperm.”
“Thomas already had Samuel’s stored reproductive material. Daniel believed the blood was taken to confirm identity genetically before using the stored sample.”
The calculation made me nauseated.
Thomas had wanted certainty.
He had wanted Daniel to raise Samuel’s biological child.
“Did Samuel know about Michael then?”
“Not until Thomas sent him the letter after Michael’s birth.”
You have a son.
Three words designed to detonate two families.
“Why didn’t Samuel tell me when he came?”
“He tried to determine whether Thomas was lying first.”
“And Daniel stopped him.”
“Yes.”
I pressed my fingers against my forehead.
“Where is Samuel now?”
“Phoenix.”
“I want to speak to him.”
“I expected you would.”
“Tonight.”
“He is expecting your call.”
Of course he was.
Everyone seemed to be waiting for me to reach the next station in a journey I had never agreed to take.
“There is something else,” Klein said.
I almost laughed.
“There always is.”
“This concerns Emma.”
My entire body stiffened.
“What about her?”
“Daniel had genetic testing performed after learning Michael and Rachel were related.”
“When?”
“June.”
“On Emma?”
“No. On Michael and Anna.”
I looked at Anna.
She shook her head.
“I gave Daniel a DNA sample to confirm he was my father.”
Klein continued.
“The lab also screened for certain recessive variants because Daniel was concerned about Michael and Rachel having children.”
“And?”
“One variant appeared in both family lines.”
My mouth went dry.
“What variant?”
“I’m not a physician, and I don’t want to misstate its significance.”
“Name it.”
He did.
The name meant nothing to me.
“Could it explain Emma’s blood counts?”
“It can be associated with bone marrow disorders in some circumstances.”
Anna covered her mouth.
I looked through the window again.
Emma was laughing at something on television.
Nine years old.
Purple leggings.
One hospital bracelet.
“Did Daniel know?”
“He knew there was a possible inherited risk.”
“When?”
“July.”
Two months ago.
He had known.
And said nothing.
“Did Michael know?”
“No.”
That surprised me.
“Why didn’t Daniel tell him?”
“He intended to after confirming Rachel’s genetic status.”
“Did he?”
“He never obtained her sample.”
“So he kept quiet.”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
Fear again.
Always fear.
“When can you bring me everything?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Bring it to the hospital.”
“I will.”
I ended the call.
Anna and I sat silently.
After several minutes Rachel stepped into the hallway.
Her eyes were swollen.
“What happened?”
I could not lie.
Not even temporarily.
“There may be a genetic finding Daniel knew about.”
Rachel stared.
“What finding?”
I told her exactly what Klein had said and no more.
Her face became frighteningly calm.
“Daniel knew in July.”
“Yes.”
“And didn’t tell us.”
“Yes.”
She turned toward the hospital room.
Michael was inside now, sitting beside Emma.
Rachel watched him through the glass.
“Did Michael know?”
“No.”
I saw the smallest piece of relief.
Not forgiveness.
But relief that her husband had not hidden this particular thing.
“I want the doctor to know immediately.”
“So do I.”
We asked for Dr. Patel.
She listened without interruption, wrote down the name of the genetic variant, and said she would contact the genetics team and review whether it was relevant to Emma’s current presentation.
“Does this mean that’s what she has?” Rachel asked.
“No.”
“Could it?”
“It gives us information worth investigating. It does not give us a diagnosis.”
Rachel nodded.
Facts.
For once, facts without manipulation.
The doctor left.
Anna remained several feet away.
Rachel finally looked at her.
Neither spoke.
Anna’s eyes filled first.
“I’m sorry.”
Rachel frowned.
“For what?”
“For giving you away.”
The hallway became very quiet.
Rachel looked at the floor.
“You were nineteen.”
“Yes.”
“Susan told me.”
“I thought you would have a better life.”
“I did.”
Anna’s face broke slightly.
Rachel continued.
“I had a good childhood.”
“I’m glad.”
“That doesn’t mean this is easy.”
“I know.”
Rachel looked at her for a long time.
Then she asked, “Did you know Daniel was your father when Michael and I married?”
“No.”
That mattered.
I saw it matter.
“Did you know Michael existed?”
“No.”
Another burden lifted from someone who had never deserved it.
Rachel sat beside Anna.
They did not embrace.
That would have been too neat.
They simply sat.
Two women connected by blood, adoption, marriage, and decisions made by frightened people long before either understood the consequences.
My phone vibrated.
A text from Klein.
I FOUND ONE MORE DOCUMENT TONIGHT. DANIEL NEVER SAW IT.
Below it was a photograph of an old letter.
The sender:
THOMAS MORGAN.
The recipient:
DANIEL HALE.
The date:
August 18, 1990.
Three days after Michael’s birth.
The first line was visible.
Now you understand what Rebecca tried to warn you about.
Click here to continue reading: PART 10: Thomas’s Letter Proved Daniel Was Warned Three Days After Michael’s Birth, and His Response Exposed the First Lie in Our Marriage
The Last Thing Daniel Said Made No Sense Until a Stranger Knocked Before I Had Put Away His Funeral Dress
Part 9 of 20
