Some records that old are archived off-site.
***
Twenty minutes later, a gray-haired woman walked into the consultation room.
She looked at me for several seconds. “Rachel?”
My heart stopped. “You remember me?”
“Not many eighteen-year-olds came through here with a terrified nineteen-year-old husband.”
I almost smiled. “That sounds like Mark.”
Can I speak to her?
“How is he?”
“He died three years ago.”
Her expression changed. “I’m sorry.”
“Susan, I need to ask you about the night my son was born.”
“Luke?”
That sounds like Mark.
I stared at her. “You remember his name?”
She went still.
Then she slowly closed the door. “What happened?”
I placed the copied adoption record in front of her.
Susan read it.
I need to ask you about the night my son was born.
Her face lost all color. “Where did you get this?”
