Chapter 3 - The Name on the Bracelet
Daniel followed the nurse toward the delivery room, but halfway down the corridor he stopped.
His hand slipped beneath his shirt and closed around the silver chain.
The bracelet felt cold against his palm.
Baby Boy Wright.
The words had haunted him for two weeks.
He pulled the chain over his head and examined the bracelet again.
His adoptive mother had preserved it in a velvet box. The metal was scratched and dull, but the letters remained visible.
Daniel had asked Rebecca why she kept it.
She had answered honestly.
“Because it was the only thing that came with you.”
The private attorney who arranged the adoption had told Paul and Rebecca to destroy the bracelet. Instead, Rebecca hid it.
“I thought one day you might need it,” she said.
Daniel had been angry then.
Now he was grateful.
The nurse glanced back.
“Mr. Hale?”
Daniel put the chain around his neck again.
“I’m coming.”
Inside the delivery room, Joanna held their son against her chest. Her face was pale and tired, but when she saw Daniel, her eyes filled with relief.
“You made it.”
He moved toward her.
“I’ve been right outside.”
Then he noticed the doctor.
Dr. Robert Wright stood near the foot of the bed. He was staring at Daniel as though he had seen a ghost.
The doctor’s face was familiar.
Daniel had spent hours searching the hospital’s staff website. He had seen Robert’s photograph without paying attention to the surname.
Now the connection seemed impossible to ignore.
Robert’s eyes moved to the chain around Daniel’s neck.
“What is that?” he asked.
Daniel instinctively covered the bracelet.
“It belonged to me when I was born.”
“May I see it?”
Daniel did not move.
Joanna looked between them.
“Can someone please explain what’s happening?”
Robert stepped closer, but one of the nurses touched his arm.
“Dr. Wright, perhaps we should give the family some privacy.”
Robert seemed to remember where he was.
He wiped his face and straightened his coat.
“You’re right.”
He looked at Joanna.
“Your baby appears healthy. The birthmark is not dangerous.”
Joanna’s shoulders relaxed slightly.
“Then why did you ask about his father?”
Robert looked at Daniel again.
“Because that mark may be hereditary.”
Daniel felt his heartbeat quicken.
“What kind of birthmark?”
Robert pointed toward his own left shoulder.
“A crescent with a small dot beside it.”
Daniel went still.
He had the same mark.
Joanna knew it. She had traced it with her finger many times, often joking that it looked like a moon chasing a star.
Daniel slowly unbuttoned the top of his rain-soaked shirt and pulled the fabric aside.
The nurses became silent.
The crescent-shaped mark beneath Daniel’s shoulder was darker than the baby’s, but the shape was identical.
Robert gripped the edge of the bed for support.
“What hospital were you born in?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
“What date?”
“October 18, twenty-nine years ago.”
Robert closed his eyes.
Joanna looked at Daniel.
“Is that the date from the photograph?”
He nodded.
Robert opened his eyes again.
“What photograph?”
Daniel reached into his jacket.
The old picture trembled in his hand as he gave it to the doctor.
Robert stared at the newborn in the faded yellow blanket.
Then he turned the picture over.
Baby N. W. Born October 18.
Robert’s knees nearly failed him.
“Nathan,” he whispered.
Daniel’s expression hardened.
“My name is Daniel.”
“I know.”
Robert held the photograph carefully, as if it might disappear.
“But when you were born, your name was Nathan.”
Joanna’s mother stepped forward.
“Doctor, that is a serious thing to say.”
Robert removed his white coat.
Then he pulled the collar of his scrub shirt aside, exposing the birthmark beneath his shoulder.
It matched Daniel’s.
It matched the baby’s.
May you like
Robert looked at Daniel with twenty-nine years of grief in his eyes.
“I think you may be my son.”
