The world blurred.
“And then?”
“And then your mother came to my apartment with a different letter. The one she said was from you.”
A breeze lifted the corner of the visitor log.
I placed my palm over it.
“There’s more,” I said. “My father mentioned Dr. Ellis.”
Hannah’s face changed.
“What?”
“You know him?”
She looked toward Lucas, then back at me.
“He came to my apartment once,” she said. “After I found out I was pregnant.”
My chest tightened. “Why?”
“He said he was checking on me as a courtesy to your family. He said stress could harm your recovery, and contacting you might cause a setback.” Her voice shook. “Then he said something strange.”
“What?”
“He said some families survive by making hard choices before children complicate the truth.”
Before I could respond, Lucas dropped his crayon.
It rolled beneath the table.
I bent to pick it up, and that was when I saw the small paper tucked halfway out of Hannah’s bag.
A folded hospital document.
My name was written at the top.
Hannah noticed me looking. Her face went pale.
“What is that?” I asked.
She pulled it out slowly. “I was going to show you after coffee. I found it last night in the blue box.”
It was a discharge summary from the hospital after my accident.
But attached behind it was a form I had never seen.
A consent form.
My signature sat at the bottom.
Or something close to it.
I read the heading, and the noise of the morning seemed to vanish.
AUTHORIZATION TO RESTRICT VISITATION AND RELEASE OF PERSONAL CORRESPONDENCE.
My mouth went dry.
“I didn’t sign this.”
Hannah’s voice was barely a whisper. “Look at the witness line.”
I looked.
The witness signature belonged to Dr. Ellis.
Below his name was another signature.
Not my mother’s.
Not my father’s.
A name I recognized from the police report of my accident.
The other driver.