Chapter 5 - The Couple Waiting for a Baby
The Halstons lived in a gated community outside Philadelphia.
Their house had six bedrooms, a swimming pool, and a nursery decorated with pale-green wallpaper.
I learned about the nursery from photographs.
Mrs. Halston had posted them publicly.
A white crib.
A rocking chair.
A stuffed elephant.
And a wooden sign above the changing table.
WELCOME HOME, OLIVER.
My stomach turned.
Oliver was still in protective custody.
His biological mother was fighting to regain care.
Yet another family had already prepared a room with his name on the wall.
I showed the photograph to Detective Ward.
She studied it.
"Where did you find this?"
"Mrs. Halston's public account."
Ward documented the information.
Then she looked at me.
"Don't contact them."
"I wasn't going to."
"Good."
I hesitated.
"Do they know about Naomi?"
"We're investigating what they were told."
That was the question I couldn't stop thinking about.
Were the Halstons willing participants?
Or had they been deceived too?
Three days later, I learned the answer was more complicated than I expected.
Margaret Halston contacted the child-protection agency after hearing about the investigation.
She was forty-two and had undergone years of unsuccessful fertility treatment.
She and her husband had applied to adopt through what they believed was a legitimate process.
Lydia Crane had introduced them to a private family-services organization called New Horizons Placement Network.
She told them Oliver's biological mother had voluntarily surrendered her parental rights.
She also claimed the foster placement was temporary while the adoption documents were finalized.
The Halstons made a substantial payment.
They believed it covered legal and administrative expenses.
But the receipt they received didn't match the one Adam found.
Their paperwork showed a payment to New Horizons.
Adam's copy showed money moving through a consulting company controlled by Lydia's brother.
I learned these details through the investigation and subsequent statements, not because anyone handed me confidential records.
But the more facts emerged, the more disturbing the situation became.
Someone had been using a vulnerable mother's temporary crisis to arrange an adoption she had not authorized.
And Oliver wasn't the only child being discussed.
Detective Ward contacted me again.
"Nora, do you remember seeing other children's photographs in Celeste's office?"
I thought about the framed pictures on her bookshelf.
"No. Mostly family photographs."
"Anything unusual?"
I closed my eyes.
Then I remembered a binder.
A thick white binder with colored tabs.
Celeste kept it in her desk.
Once, she asked me to retrieve Oliver's feeding instructions.
I opened the wrong drawer.
The binder was there.
Its label read:
FAMILY MATCHES.
"I saw a binder," I said.
Ward asked for a description.
I gave her everything I remembered.
That evening, Adam called.
"Nora."
His voice was barely recognizable.
"What's wrong?"
"I found the binder."
My stomach tightened.
"Where?"
"In Celeste's locked cabinet."
"Have you told Detective Ward?"
"Yes."
I exhaled.
Adam began crying.
I'd never heard him cry before.
Not at the hospital.
Not when the police questioned Celeste.
Not when he discovered the video.
But now he couldn't finish a sentence.
"Adam?"
He swallowed.
"There are photographs of other babies."
I sat still.
"How many?"
"I don't know. At least a dozen."
I closed my eyes.
He continued.
"Each one has a file."
"What kind of file?"
"Names. Medical information. Family circumstances."
I felt sick.
"And?"
"Notes about potential adoptive parents."
I pressed my hand against my mouth.
Adam whispered, "Some of the mothers were still trying to get their children back."
For a long time, neither of us spoke.
Then he said something that made my heart break.
"I thought we were helping."
I looked toward my apartment window.
Rain streaked the glass.
"I know."
"Celeste told me Oliver's mother abandoned him."
"She didn't."
"I know that now."
His voice broke again.
"I should have asked more questions."
I didn't know what to say.
Adam had helped save Oliver.
But he'd also lived beside Celeste while she collected photographs and documents.
He hadn't understood what was happening.
Or perhaps he hadn't wanted to understand.
Those were questions investigators would examine.
Questions Adam would have to answer honestly.
I couldn't answer them for him.
The next morning, Naomi called.
Her voice was shaking.
"Nora?"
"Hi."
"I heard about the adoption papers."
I closed my eyes.
"I'm sorry."
She swallowed.
"They signed my name."
I didn't answer.
"I never gave my baby away."
"I know."
She began crying.
"I was in the hospital. I had nowhere to live."
I pressed my hand against my forehead.
"I know."
"Does that mean I don't deserve him?"
My throat tightened.
"No."
There was silence.
Then Naomi whispered, "I want him to know I never stopped trying."
I looked at the photograph of Oliver on my refrigerator.
A picture I'd taken on his fifth day in the Mercer house.
He was asleep in a yellow sleeper.
His tiny hands rested beside his face.
I swallowed.
"Then keep telling the truth."
She began crying harder.
"I will."
After we ended the call, I stared at the photograph.
And made myself a promise.
I would cooperate with the investigation.
I would tell the truth in every hearing.
May you like
I would never claim to know more than I actually knew.
And I would never let anyone use my love for Oliver as an excuse to erase his mother.
