sending money to Rebecca for years. I know what that looks like, but please talk to her before you decide what kind of man he was.’
I dropped the letter.
Charity & Philanthropy
“No, no, no.”
I thought Ethan had handed me the truth.
Instead, he’d only given me its first piece—and one thing he believed was completely wrong.
Behind his pages were copies of bank transfers.
Daniel had sent Rebecca money for years.
Hundreds at first.
Eventually thousands.
Pregnancy & Maternity
Money we’d argued over.
‘We can’t afford the specialist camp Ethan wants.’
‘We need to be careful this month.’
Currencies & Foreign Exchange
‘The roof can wait.’
Apparently, Rebecca couldn’t.
“While I was counting grocery coupons, you had another daughter?”
I said it to Daniel’s photograph.
Then threw the picture across the room.
It changed nothing.
The next morning, I verified the transfers.
Every one was real.
Coupons
I began with the oldest.
Three hundred.
Then five hundred.
Then
eight.
By the time Lily was ten, payments were arriving almost every month.
Charity & Philanthropy
Nearly eighteen years of statements stretched in front of me.
By noon, I’d filled three pages with dates, accounts, and amounts.
But I no longer needed numbers.
I needed Rebecca.
I called the transplant coordinator.
“My name is Laura C. My son was Ethan C.”
A pause followed.
“Yes. I remember.”
Anatomy
“I need Rebecca’s contact information.”
Another pause.
“I’m sorry?”
“The mother of the girl who received Ethan’s heart.”
“I’m afraid I can’t provide that.”
“She came to his funeral. She gave me a letter from my son.”
“I understand, but I can’t release the recipient family’s private information.”
“Even if I know her name?”
Health Conditions
“That doesn’t change our privacy rules.”
I got up and paced.
“Can you call her?”
“I can pass along a request for contact.”
“How long will that take?”
“I can’t promise she’ll
respond.”
“She found me. Why can’t I find her?”
Heart health resources
“No, you don’t. She walked up to me at my son’s funeral, handed me something that blew apart everything I knew about my husband, and disappeared.”
“I’m very sorry.”
I shut my eyes.
“Just tell her I need to speak to her.”
“I can do that.”
I hung up.
—
By that evening, the explanation seemed obvious.
Letter writing kits
Daniel had betrayed me.
Lily was evidence of it.
Rebecca had helped him conceal the affair for eighteen years.
I was certain I finally understood everything.
I wasn’t even close.
The following morning, I dragged Daniel’s old files from the closet.
If Rebecca wouldn’t give me answers, perhaps Daniel’s records would.
Marriage
Tax returns.
Insurance policies.
Old business statements.
Receipts I couldn’t believe we’d saved.
Nothing carried Rebecca’s name.
That somehow made it worse.
For eighteen years, Daniel had apparently kept her entirely separate from our
