Chapter 3 - THE FIRST MOTHER THEY TOOK
Leah stared at Simone.
For several seconds, the only sound in the hospital room came from the monitor beside the bed.
Mae stepped closer.
“What do you mean Doreen’s name was on your cousin’s paperwork?”
Simone looked toward the doorway.
“Close it.”
Mae did.
Then she pulled the privacy curtain across the entrance window.
Simone sat slowly.
“My cousin’s name is Elise Warren.”
Leah waited.
“She delivered here three years ago.”
Mae’s face shifted.
“I remember Elise.”
Simone looked at her.
“I thought you might.”
Mae said nothing.
Simone continued.
“Elise was twenty-six.”
“She had a daughter named Hannah.”
“Her husband’s family had money.”
“Not Carver money.”
“But enough.”
“His mother knew Doreen through some charitable board.”
Leah’s stomach tightened.
“What did Doreen have to do with it?”
Simone rubbed her hands together.
“She was listed as a family advocacy consultant.”
Mae swore quietly.
Leah looked at her.
“You knew?”
“I knew Mrs. Carver was involved with the hospital foundation.”
“I didn’t know she was being inserted into custody cases.”
Simone nodded.
“Elise had a difficult labor.”
“She didn’t sleep for almost two days.”
“She cried.”
“She got angry.”
“She told her husband she wanted his mother out of the room.”
“Within twenty-four hours, someone requested a psychiatric evaluation.”
Leah felt as if she were hearing her own future.
“What happened?”
“They said she was unstable.”
“Was she?”
“No.”
“She was exhausted.”
“She was frightened.”
“And every time she became more frightened, they wrote down that she was more unstable.”
Mae pulled the chair closer.
“Who signed the hold?”
Simone swallowed.
“Dr. Celia Rusk.”
Leah closed her eyes.
Of course.
“What happened to Hannah?”
“She went home with Elise’s mother-in-law.”
“For eleven months?”
“Yes.”
“Why did it take that long?”
“Because once a court sees hospital records, everything changes.”
Simone’s voice became bitter.
“Elise would say the notes were false.”
“They would say she lacked insight.”
“She would get angry.”
“They would write that she was volatile.”
“She would cry.”
“They would write that she was emotionally dysregulated.”
“She would refuse medication.”
“They would call it noncompliance.”
Leah felt her hands go cold.
It was a perfect trap.
Every attempt to escape became more evidence that escape was necessary.
“What did Doreen gain?” Leah asked.
Simone hesitated.
“I don’t know.”
“Then why was she involved?”
“Elise thinks Doreen was helping the husband’s family.”
“Why?”
“The grandmother donated nearly half a million dollars to a maternity outreach program two months later.”
Mae’s expression hardened.
“Which program?”
“Family Harbor.”
Mae looked at Leah.
Leah remembered the name.
Doreen had hosted a luncheon for Family Harbor the previous winter.
She had described it as a nonprofit assisting mothers in crisis.
Leah had donated two hundred dollars.
The memory made her nauseated.
“Family Harbor is Doreen’s charity,” Leah said.
Simone nodded.
“Exactly.”
Mae stood.
“I need to find the old case.”
“Can you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do it quietly,” Simone said.
Mae gave her a tired look.
“I understand quietly.”
She left.
Leah looked at Simone.
“Why are you here?”
Simone froze.
“You said your boyfriend thinks you lost the baby.”
“That isn’t relevant.”
“It became relevant when you knew Doreen.”
Simone looked away.
“Are you in danger too?”
“No.”
“Then why are you hiding?”
Simone pressed her lips together.
Leah waited.
Finally, Simone whispered, “Because I agreed to something I shouldn’t have.”
“What?”
“A private adoption.”
Leah stared at her.
Simone continued before she could respond.
“I was scared.”
“My boyfriend has a wife.”
Leah blinked.
Simone gave a humorless smile.
“Yes.”
“I know.”
“Excellent decision-making.”
“He told me they were separated.”
“They weren’t.”
“When I found out I was pregnant, he said he would support me.”
“Then he panicked.”
“He had political ambitions.”
“He didn’t want a child appearing.”
“So you came here?”
“Doreen found me.”
“How?”
“My cousin introduced us.”
Leah frowned.
“Why would Elise introduce you to the woman who helped take her baby?”
“She didn’t.”
“She mentioned my situation to a social worker.”
“Two days later, Doreen called me.”
Leah’s skin crawled.
“What did she offer?”
“Privacy.”
“A private room.”
“Medical care.”
“Legal expenses.”
“And a family willing to adopt my daughter.”
“You agreed?”
“At first.”
“What changed?”
Simone looked down at her stomach.
“She started moving.”
Leah said nothing.
Simone’s eyes filled.
“I know how stupid that sounds.”
“It doesn’t.”
“It does.”
“I told myself she was a problem I needed solved.”
“Then one night she kicked when I put music on.”
“And suddenly she wasn’t an idea anymore.”
“She was my daughter.”
Leah looked at Simone’s hand resting over her belly.
“So you changed your mind.”
“Yes.”
“What did Doreen say?”
“That contracts exist for a reason.”
Leah felt a chill.
“Can she force you?”
“No.”
“Not legally.”
“That answer worries me.”
“It should.”
Simone wiped her eyes.
“She reminded me that my boyfriend’s name could become public.”
“She reminded me his wife might sue.”
“She reminded me my job contract has a morality clause.”
“She reminded me that she knew where my parents live.”
Leah stared at her.
“She threatened you.”
“She called it consequences.”
“When did you decide to stay here?”
“Two weeks ago.”
“Why?”
“I thought hiding inside the hospital would make me safer.”
Leah almost laughed.
Now neither of them did.
Mae returned before lunch.
She looked angry.
“The old record is restricted.”
“Why?” Leah asked.
“Administrative hold.”
“Who placed it?”
“Briar Glen legal.”
“Can they do that?”
“Yes.”
“Can you get around it?”
Mae gave her a look.
“That would be a very bad professional decision.”
Leah waited.
Mae added, “I’m considering it.”
At one o’clock, Doreen returned.
This time, she brought Dr. Rusk.
Leah immediately began recording on her phone.
She placed it facedown beside her leg.
Doreen smiled.
“Feeling better?”
“Yes.”
“Wonderful.”
Dr. Rusk approached the bed.
“I’d like to discuss the possibility of inducing labor.”
Leah stared at her.
“My due date is two weeks away.”
“Your placenta position and recent stress make me less comfortable waiting.”
“What changed since yesterday?”
“Your overall presentation.”
Leah felt anger rise.
She controlled it.
“What about my presentation?”
Dr. Rusk glanced at Doreen.
That tiny glance mattered.
“You’ve had significant emotional distress.”
“I met with Dr. Barrett.”
“She did not recommend a hold.”
Rusk’s face tightened.
“She also wants continued observation.”
“She said that?”
“Her note isn’t complete.”
“Then how do you know?”
Doreen stepped in.
“Leah, please stop interrogating everyone.”
Leah looked at her.
“I’m asking my doctor a question.”
“You’re upsetting yourself.”
“No.”
“You’re upsetting yourself.”
Doreen’s tone became softer.
More maternal.
More dangerous.
“You need to think about your baby.”
“I am.”
“Then cooperate.”
Leah’s eyes narrowed.
“With what?”
“With care.”
“Whose care?”
“Yours.”
“Or yours?”
Nathan entered the room at that moment.
Doreen turned.
“Perfect timing.”
Leah looked at him.
He avoided her eyes.
Dr. Rusk opened the chart.
“I recommend induction tomorrow morning.”
Leah’s pulse jumped.
“No.”
Nathan looked at her.
“Leah.”
“No.”
“The doctor thinks it’s safer.”
“I want another opinion.”
Rusk stiffened.
“That is your right.”
“I want one today.”
Doreen laughed softly.
“You’re being difficult for the sake of being difficult.”
Leah turned to Nathan.
“Did you sign a medical proxy naming your mother?”
He froze.
Doreen stopped smiling.
Rusk closed the chart.
Nathan looked at Leah.
“Where did you see that?”
“In my records.”
“You shouldn’t have been digging through—”
Leah’s face went cold.
“My medical records?”
Nathan stopped.
Doreen stepped forward.
“It was a precaution.”
“It has my forged signature.”
“No one forged anything.”
“I did not sign it.”
Nathan rubbed his forehead.
“Leah.”
“Did you witness my signature?”
Silence.
“Nathan.”
He looked at the floor.
Doreen spoke.
“You had signed several forms at the clinic.”
Leah’s attention snapped to her.
“What forms?”
“Standard documents.”
“Did you copy my signature?”
Doreen’s expression became offended.
“Don’t be absurd.”
Leah picked up the proxy form.
She held it out.
“Then explain this.”
Dr. Rusk looked surprised.
Perhaps genuinely.
That interested Leah.
Doreen did not take the paper.
Nathan finally said, “Mom said you signed it.”
Leah looked at him.
“You witnessed it.”
“She told me you had.”
“That is not witnessing.”
“I know.”
“You signed anyway.”
“I thought it was paperwork.”
Leah stared at him.
“You keep saying you thought.”
Nathan looked hurt.
She did not care.
“I thought the recordings were for your doctor.”
“I thought the proxy was paperwork.”
“I thought Mom was helping.”
“How many times do you get to help someone hurt me and call it misunderstanding?”
Doreen stepped closer.
“Nathan has done nothing wrong.”
Leah laughed once.
“Of course.”
“You trained him not to.”
Nathan’s jaw tightened.
“Stop attacking my mother.”
Leah looked at him.
“I’m done protecting your feelings.”
That sentence changed something.
Nathan’s expression hardened.
Not completely.
But enough.
“You’ve been hostile since we arrived.”
Leah stared at him.
Doreen watched.
Dr. Rusk watched.
Nathan continued.
“You don’t trust anyone.”
“You’re refusing medication.”
“You’re refusing induction.”
“You’re accusing Mom of forgery.”
Leah’s heart sank.
He was doing it again.
Building a list.
For an audience.
Leah looked at Dr. Rusk.
“Please document that my husband is currently describing my refusal of optional medication and request for a second medical opinion as evidence of hostility.”
Nathan’s face changed.
Doreen’s did too.
Leah continued calmly.
“And document that I am asking him to leave.”
Nathan stared at her.
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“Again?”
“Yes.”
Doreen stepped toward him.
“Come on.”
Nathan looked at Leah.
For a moment, something like shame crossed his eyes.
Then it vanished.
He followed his mother out.
Dr. Rusk remained.
Leah looked at her.
“I want another obstetrician.”
Rusk’s mouth tightened.
“I can arrange a consultation.”
“Today.”
“I’ll see who is available.”
“And I want a copy of any note you write about this conversation.”
Rusk stared at her.
Then she nodded.
After she left, Simone exhaled.
“You’re getting better at this.”
“I hate that I have to.”
“At least you know.”
Leah touched her stomach.
The baby shifted low.
A sharp pressure moved through her pelvis.
She winced.
Simone noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Another pressure came.
Stronger.
Leah gripped the bedrail.
Then she felt warmth between her legs.
For one terrifying second, she thought her water had broken.
She pulled the blanket back.
Blood.
Bright red.
Too much.
Leah screamed for Mae.
The room exploded into movement.
Nurses rushed in.
Dr. Rusk returned.
Monitors were attached.
Someone called for an operating room.
Leah heard words flying over her.
Placental bleeding.
Fetal heart deceleration.
Emergency delivery.
She turned toward the door.
“Nathan.”
No one answered.
“Get Nathan.”
Mae grabbed her hand.
“I’ll find him.”
Leah was pushed into the hallway.
Lights flashed above her as the bed rolled.
“Where is my husband?”
Mae ran beside her.
“I don’t know.”
Leah’s stomach cramped painfully.
The fetal monitor alarm changed.
A doctor shouted.
They pushed faster.
As the elevator doors began closing, Leah saw Nathan at the far end of the corridor.
He was not running toward her.
He was standing beside Doreen.
And Doreen was holding a folder.
A blue folder.
May you like
Nathan signed something inside it.
Then the elevator doors closed.
