that a piece of the daughter, the sister they’d lost, still lived in her child?”
“Of course I thought about that.” The drawer shook from the pressure of her hands curled around the edge. “I’ve thought about that every day for ten years. But Sierra asked me to keep her secret. She didn’t want anyone to know until she and Oscar told them.”
“Screw what she wanted. She was a kid.”
“She was an adult.” She yelled the words, her hair flying as she whipped her head around to face him. “She’d turned eighteen earlier that summer. Oscar, too. They didn’t needtheir parents’ consent for anything. They were both legal adults when the adoption process was started.”
He thought back to when his sister had called him, calculated the dates. She hadn’t been eighteen then. “I guess she had a C-section? Or was induced? Unless someone waved a magic wand to have her go into labor the weekend you two were away at art camp.”
“She was induced, yes.”
“Of course. The postmortem would’ve shown an incision, and I can’t imagine a reputable hospital releasing her so soon after surgery. But it should’ve been just as obvious to the coroner that she’d recently given birth.”
“Unless there was no postmortem,” Luna offered. “It’s not like the cause of her death was in question.”
He didn’t know. He barely remembered those days. He’d heard nothing from his parents about what had happened with Sierra’s body. Even thinking about it now… “What was it? The baby? A boy or a girl?”
“A girl.”
He sank onto the sofa, buried his face in his hands. It was bad enough that he’d kept the secret of his sister’s pregnancy from their parents… but this? How was he ever going to live with this? Because if he’d said something about Sierra expecting… “So I have a niece out there somewhere. My parents have a granddaughter.”
Luna was slow to answer. “Biologically, yes, but none of you have any claim on the child. Sierra was the only one in your family with rights. And she signed those away.”
He shook his head. “There’s got to be some recourse. I’ll need to talk to an attorney—”
“Why?”
“Why?” He looked at her, but didn’t really see her. All he could see was red. “What kind of stupid question is that?”
“You’re not thinking straight.”
“Of course I’m not thinking straight.” He yelled the words, gestured wildly. “You just told me my dead sister had a daughter.”
“Angelo, listen,” she said, closing the drawer, moving closer, the coffee table still between them. “The child is ten years old. She legally belongs with the family who adopted her. She may not even know she’s adopted. Are you really going to charge in like a bull trying to get your way? Because, what? You didn’t come home when Sierra called you, so ruining her daughter’s life is going to make up for that somehow?”
“How is giving her the truth of her heritage going to ruin her life?”
“How is giving her the truth of her heritage going to make the life she has any better? She’s a child, Angelo. A little girl. She may have other siblings, and no doubt friends at school, at church. She might be in dance class, or in Girl Scouts, or taking cello lessons. Telling her where she came from, what happened to Sierra and Oscar… Don’t you see how that truth could turn her world upside down? Even if you could get access to the records, could you really do that to a ten-year-old girl?”
He didn’t have an answer. He wanted to tell her that the child wasn’t the only one in the picture, the only one with stakes in the game. He wanted to tell her that he and his parents and siblings were the girl’s blood relatives, so of course knowing them would make her life better. But that was such a crock he couldn’t believe he was thinking it. He was gripping,reaching for anything to kill the pain. He was trying to make himself feel better over failing his sister before
“Of course I thought about that.” The drawer shook from the pressure of her hands curled around the edge. “I’ve thought about that every day for ten years. But Sierra asked me to keep her secret. She didn’t want anyone to know until she and Oscar told them.”
“Screw what she wanted. She was a kid.”
“She was an adult.” She yelled the words, her hair flying as she whipped her head around to face him. “She’d turned eighteen earlier that summer. Oscar, too. They didn’t needtheir parents’ consent for anything. They were both legal adults when the adoption process was started.”
He thought back to when his sister had called him, calculated the dates. She hadn’t been eighteen then. “I guess she had a C-section? Or was induced? Unless someone waved a magic wand to have her go into labor the weekend you two were away at art camp.”
“She was induced, yes.”
“Of course. The postmortem would’ve shown an incision, and I can’t imagine a reputable hospital releasing her so soon after surgery. But it should’ve been just as obvious to the coroner that she’d recently given birth.”
“Unless there was no postmortem,” Luna offered. “It’s not like the cause of her death was in question.”
He didn’t know. He barely remembered those days. He’d heard nothing from his parents about what had happened with Sierra’s body. Even thinking about it now… “What was it? The baby? A boy or a girl?”
“A girl.”
He sank onto the sofa, buried his face in his hands. It was bad enough that he’d kept the secret of his sister’s pregnancy from their parents… but this? How was he ever going to live with this? Because if he’d said something about Sierra expecting… “So I have a niece out there somewhere. My parents have a granddaughter.”
Luna was slow to answer. “Biologically, yes, but none of you have any claim on the child. Sierra was the only one in your family with rights. And she signed those away.”
He shook his head. “There’s got to be some recourse. I’ll need to talk to an attorney—”
“Why?”
“Why?” He looked at her, but didn’t really see her. All he could see was red. “What kind of stupid question is that?”
“You’re not thinking straight.”
“Of course I’m not thinking straight.” He yelled the words, gestured wildly. “You just told me my dead sister had a daughter.”
“Angelo, listen,” she said, closing the drawer, moving closer, the coffee table still between them. “The child is ten years old. She legally belongs with the family who adopted her. She may not even know she’s adopted. Are you really going to charge in like a bull trying to get your way? Because, what? You didn’t come home when Sierra called you, so ruining her daughter’s life is going to make up for that somehow?”
“How is giving her the truth of her heritage going to ruin her life?”
“How is giving her the truth of her heritage going to make the life she has any better? She’s a child, Angelo. A little girl. She may have other siblings, and no doubt friends at school, at church. She might be in dance class, or in Girl Scouts, or taking cello lessons. Telling her where she came from, what happened to Sierra and Oscar… Don’t you see how that truth could turn her world upside down? Even if you could get access to the records, could you really do that to a ten-year-old girl?”
He didn’t have an answer. He wanted to tell her that the child wasn’t the only one in the picture, the only one with stakes in the game. He wanted to tell her that he and his parents and siblings were the girl’s blood relatives, so of course knowing them would make her life better. But that was such a crock he couldn’t believe he was thinking it. He was gripping,reaching for anything to kill the pain. He was trying to make himself feel better over failing his sister before
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