Birthright

“Based on that logic,” Nora says, “you don’t know your birthdate either, Antony. Maybe you’re a Ramsay.”

“I actually remember that year though,” Antony says. “I was six and very into Barney the dinosaur.”

“This is not getting us anywhere,” I say. “Stick to the topic. Threes, go on.”

“Okay,” Threes says, “so a month later, Leanne is admitted to the hospital again. Same doctor. Pitocin given again.”

“That’s not possible,” Nora says. “You can’t induce labor and then stop it. This doesn’t make sense.”

“Oh, it gets better,” Threes says with a grin. “This time, the hospital visit coincides with a death certificate for a newborn.”

Threes places the death certificate on the desk for all of us to see.

“Mary Elizabeth Ramsay. Born and died on January ninth.”

“Is this Leanne’s child?” I ask. “A stillborn?”

“A stillborn or a hidden live birth,” Antony says. “How can we tell?”

“At least you aren’t making assumptions again,” Nora mutters.

I silence her with a hard look.

“Roland Ramsay signed the hospital admittance records both times,” Threes says.

“But clearly it’s not the same woman giving birth,” Nora says. “Who’s the second woman?”

“Did you say Roland?” Cherry asks.

I turn to her, trying to understand her expression. I’m not sure if she’s confused or inquisitive, but at least her posture has relaxed.

“Yeah,” Threes says.

“He was the head of the Ramsay family until about ten years ago,” I tell her.

“Do you know that name?” Nora asks.

“Yes.” Cherry nods vigorously. “There was a man named Roland who came to visit Aunt Ginny a couple of times,” Cherry says. “She said he was a classmate, not a relative. I only remember because he was the one visitor she ever had who didn’t live in Accident.”

“So, Roland Ramsay actually visited you?”

“I mean, I’m not sure it’s the same guy, but the name is right.”

Antony tosses the picture of Roland and the pregnant woman to the top of the pile on the desk.

“That’s him,” Cherry says. “At least, I think it is. It’s not a clear picture and I was pretty young at the time. The woman is definitely Aunt Ginny though—I’d recognize her anywhere.”

“What?” We all turn to her.

“That makes sense,” Threes says. “This is where things get interesting.” He shuffles through the papers again. “Look at this.”

On the top of the pile is an additional medical record with an unfamiliar patient name.

“Sofia Jones?”

“Sofia, yes, Jones, no.” Threes points to the picture of Roland and the pregnant woman again. “That was his little sister—Sofia Ramsay.”

“I didn’t know he had a sister that much younger than him.”