She joked about ships that sailed, and flicked her fingers as if the very idea of motherhood was preposterous. But Lacey sensed she was hiding an old pain. Couldn’t anyone else?
Apparently not, and Tessa had told her that no one knew except her late father. Not her mother, not her twin sister.
The secret had been burning a hole in Lacey ever since that late afternoon at the wine bar when, in a completely off-guard and candid moment, Tessa admitted that she’d had a baby. When she did, she told Lacey everything she knew about the child…
He was seven pounds and ten ounces, nineteen inches long, and born at seven sixteen p.m. on February 19, 2000, in Holmes Regional Medical Center in Melbourne, Florida.
For some reason, Lacey had committed the confession to memory.
Well, forthisreason. So she could…pry.
No, no,no. She washelping, not prying. It was obvious Tessa would love to know her son, but she was terrified of ruining his life, not hers. If Lacey could just find out something about him, maybe the kid wouldn’t care that he was the result of a fling when Tessa worked as a waitress on a Carnival Cruise ship.
He wouldn’t care that his biological mother didn’t get the father’s last name, and hadn’t realized she was pregnant until she was fairly far along. Would he care that she didn’t tell anyone but her father, Artie, who had helped arrange the adoption?
Lacey didn’t know. But Tessa had made Lacey promise to keep her secret. Well, to be technical and accurate, Lacey reminded her pesky conscience, she’d promised not to tell Vivien or Kate, specifically.
She hadn’t promised she wouldn’t look the boy up to find out who, where, and what he was now.
Which was all she was doing by hiding in this office making secret calls while Tessa took her morning run on the beach and showered.
Lacey swallowed hard as the hold music cut off with a faint click.
“Medical Records, this is Mrs. Carmichael.”
Okay, here we go.
Lacey forced a bright, casual tone. “Hi, Mrs. Carmichael. Thanks for taking my call. I was hoping you could help me track down some birth records. It’s for my brother—he’s been trying to piece together some family medical history, and we only have a few details.”
There was a pause on the other end, followed by a skeptical, “All right, but birth records are confidential and not given by phone. But I’ll check and see what I can tell you.”
“That would be awesome.”
“Was he adopted?”
She swallowed. “Uh, yes, he was.”
“Then you’d need to be able to match the records we have on file before I can tell you anything, and I can’t tell you much, hon.”
“What would I have to match?”
“His actual birthdate, time of birth, and some vital statistics. I’ll need the patient’s last four digits of her social security—that’s the biological mother—but even then, I cannot tell you anything medical or share any personal information on file. I’m sorry, but that’s the law.”
“I understand.” As her mind whirred, she touched the computer screen, remembering that Tessa had to use the last four digits of her social security number when she had Lacey apply for a business credit card.
She clicked a few buttons and found them in an instant. “I can provide everything you asked for,” she said.
Mrs. Carmichael sighed. “All right, give me the details, and I’ll see what I can find.”
Lacey inhaled. “He was born on February 19, 2000, at seven-sixteen p.m., and was seven pounds and ten ounces, nineteen inches long. And the last four digits of the biological mother’s social are…” She threw a look at the door she hadn’t locked and prayed Tessa didn’t walk in as she read the numbers to Mrs. Carmichael.
“All right, hon,” she finally said. “You sit tight for a minute and let’s do some looking.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much.” She tried not to sound breathless but listened to the sound of clacking keys in the background. For…ever.
“Anything?” she asked.
“Well, that was a busy night at Holmes,” the woman said on a chuckle. “But only one boy was born.”
