“They’re addressed to him.”
I nodded.
“Let’s take them to Wilma and ask what can be done properly.”
Lacey looked at me.
“Do you think they matter?”
I studied the return address.
“I think they’re worth asking about.”
We photographed the envelopes where we’d found them and noted their location.
Then Lacey left them with the other records for the attorneys to address through formal disclosure.
Neither of us knew what they contained.
But the dates had given us something concrete.
A reason to ask whether Brent had completed the follow-up care required after his procedure.
Wilma began seeking the relevant records through the proper process.
Brent’s attorney objected to broad disclosure.
Eventually, the medical information relevant to the parentage dispute was made available under appropriate protections.
The result was straightforward.
Brent had undergone the procedure in 2019.
But the records did not show that he had completed the recommended confirmation testing afterward.
Several reminders had been sent.
There was no documented final clearance.
When Wilma explained this, Lacey sat very still.
“He never checked?”
“Not according to the records we’ve received.”
Lacey pressed her hands against the table.
“For years, he let me think the problem had to be me.”
Wilma nodded gently.
“We still need a reliable parentage determination. But his statement at the birthday party was not supported by proof that pregnancy was impossible.”
I looked at my sister.
Tears were moving down her cheeks.
Not from despair this time.
From the relief of finally seeing evidence that challenged the certainty she’d been forced to live beneath.
Wilma placed the medical summary into a folder.
“This changes the discussion considerably.”
But it wasn’t the whole truth.
Not yet.
Brent continued telling people his version of the story.
The gossip spread.
Lacey withdrew from several social gatherings because she no longer wanted to explain herself to people who had already decided what to believe.
Jody’s business began suffering too.
Two customers postponed projects.
His wife, Trina, temporarily stayed with relatives while they worked through the strain the accusations had placed on their marriage.
Jody came to my shop one evening after closing.
The river was quiet beyond the open bay door.
Duke slept beneath the parts counter.
Jody stood beside a workbench with both hands in his pockets.
“Trav, I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”
I looked at him.
“What happened?”
“Another customer asked whether the rumors were true.”
He gave a tired laugh.
“I build kitchens. That’s my job. Now people act like they need to investigate my personal life before hiring me.”
I pulled out a stool.
“Sit down.”
He did.
For a while, we listened to the soft sound of water moving against the dock.
Then he said, “There’s something I should have told you months ago.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“Back in March, I was working on Lacey and Brent’s kitchen.”
I nodded.
“Lacey was visiting your mom in Charlotte that week.”
“I remember.”
“Brent was supposed to be at work.”
Jody looked toward the river.
“I went back to the house to collect a tool I’d forgotten. When I arrived, Brent was there.”
“So?”
“He came out with a woman.”
I went still.
Jody continued.
“She was about thirty, dark hair, wearing a badge on a lanyard. They seemed very familiar with each other.”
I stared at him.
“What did Brent do when he saw you?”
Jody looked directly at me.
“He got nervous.”
I thought about the birthday party.
The moment Brent made his announcement.
The way he’d looked toward Jody before leaving.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Jody sighed.
“I didn’t know what I was seeing. I figured she was a coworker or a client. I didn’t want to start trouble based on a guess.”
I leaned against the workbench.
“Do you remember anything about her?”
“Her badge had a blue stripe. Brent mentioned Raleigh while they were talking.”
I thought about Brent’s sales territory.
He visited hospital systems throughout the state.
Raleigh was one of his largest markets.
I felt something begin to fit together.
“Jody,” I said quietly, “I think he was afraid you’d tell Lacey.”
My friend looked exhausted.
“I never said a word.”
“I know.”
He stared at the floor.
“And now he’s saying I’m the one who ruined his marriage.”
I reached for the folder on my workbench.
“We’re going to give your lawyer exactly what you remember. Dates, location, details. Nothing more.”
Jody nodded.
“Good.”
For the first time that evening, he looked a little less defeated.
When I told Lacey, she listened carefully.
Then she said, “Raleigh?”
“Yes.”
“A woman with a hospital badge?”
“That’s what Jody remembers.”
She sat at our kitchen table, thinking.
Then she stood.
“Travis, do you remember the box of Christmas cards?”
I frowned.
“The one we brought from your house?”
“Yes.”
We retrieved it from the guest room closet.
Lacey had always saved Christmas cards.
There were dozens from friends, relatives, neighbors, and coworkers.
She sorted through them slowly.
Then she stopped.
“This one.”
It was a red card with a small gold star.
Inside, someone had written: