The first document was a certified birth record.
Carmen read it, then stopped.
Her eyes moved to Elelliana.
“What?” Elelliana asked.
Carmen looked at the child, then at the letter.
“I think your mom was trying to tell you something important about Rebecca.”
Elelliana’s face became guarded.
“Bad?”
“Not bad about you.”
“That means bad.”
Nathan almost smiled despite the tension.
Carmen handed the paper to her, though Elelliana was too young to understand every line.
The name under Mother was not the woman Elelliana had buried.
It was Rebecca Hale.
Elelliana stared at the page.
“No.”
Carmen waited.
“No. Mom is my mom.”
“Yes,” Carmen said immediately. “The woman who raised you is your mom.”
“But this says Rebecca.”
“Yes.”
Elelliana’s lower lip shook.
Nathan leaned forward but did not touch her.
Carmen unfolded the handwritten letter.
“Would you like me to read it?”
After a long time, Elelliana nodded.
The letter began with the name of the woman Elelliana knew as Mom: Mariah Hale.
Mariah explained that Rebecca was her younger sister. Rebecca had become pregnant at seventeen. She was frightened, still in school, and determined that nobody in the life she wanted to build would know.
Mariah was twenty-six. She took the baby home from the hospital and raised her.
Rebecca remained “Aunt Rebecca,” first because everyone agreed the truth could wait until Elelliana was old enough to understand, then because waiting became easier than speaking.
