By dawn the next morning, I was searching through boxes in my mother’s attic. Near the bottom of an old trunk, I found a taped shoebox marked PRIVATE. DO NOT OPEN.
Inside were decades-old letters between Ruth and a woman named Marjorie. The first one described a young pregnant woman arriving nearly six months along and still asking whether Walter knew about the baby.
The letter said Anna had been assured, according to Ruth’s instructions, that contacting me would only make everything worse. A second letter written months later confirmed that she had finally signed the surrender papers because she believed I had already started a new life.
My hands were shaking when I reached the next page.
It mentioned a local couple interested in the private adoption.
Then I saw Carol’s name.
According to the letter, Carol was especially eager about the placement, while I had been told only that the biological mother requested a closed adoption. Ruth had instructed everyone involved to keep the arrangement discreet.
