Chapter 7 - The Pattern Megan Thought Was Invisible
Once Brooke stopped searching for one dramatic piece of proof, the smaller things became easier to see.
Megan had asked strangely specific questions throughout the pregnancy.
Not about the baby.
About Brooke.
Did red hair run on their father’s side or their mother’s?
Had Brooke ever needed braces?
Was her childhood asthma seasonal or exercise-induced?
Brooke had assumed Megan was anxious because she had become obsessive about pregnancy safety.
Now the questions sounded different.
Nora remembered another one.
“At Christmas she asked whether your grandfather had green eyes.”
Brooke looked up.
“You remember that?”
“She argued with Aunt Lisa about it for ten minutes.”
Cole searched his email.
One message from Megan, written shortly after donor selection, contained a screenshot of a donor profile.
The name was hidden.
The code was visible.
B-417.
Cole had replied with a thumbs-up.
He barely remembered doing it.
The profile listed copper-brown hair, gray-green eyes, a degree in elementary education and a maternal grandfather who repaired commercial fishing boats in Gloucester.
Brooke’s grandfather had repaired fishing boats in Gloucester for forty-one years.
Cole called Brooke immediately.
“I should have recognized it.”
“You didn’t know my grandfather.”
“I knew you were a teacher.”
“So are thousands of women.”
“I should have looked.”
Brooke was tired of hearing should have.
Still, the profile changed something.
Megan had known enough to recognize Brooke even without a name.
Rebecca obtained Brooke’s donor-bank release showing the profile associated with B-417.
The characteristics matched.
It still did not reveal which recipient had knowingly selected it.
But the pattern was tightening.
Brooke remembered one more thing.
At twenty-four weeks, an expanded genetic-screening report had been uploaded to the fertility clinic portal.
Brooke asked Megan for a copy.
Megan had become unusually defensive.
“It’s intended-parent medical information.”
“I’m carrying the baby.”
“And everything relevant to your care has already been sent to your OB.”
Brooke had let it go.
The report, Cole now discovered, contained donor-carrier genetic comparison notes.
One line had been flagged.
GESTATIONAL CARRIER REPORTS PRIOR OOCYTE DONATION. DONOR LOT IDENTITY NOT DISCLOSED TO CARRIER.
Cole read it aloud to Rebecca.
Rebecca became quiet.
“Who submitted the information that Brooke had previously donated?”
They checked.
The intended-parent intake questionnaire.
Completed by Megan.
Brooke stared at the screen.
“She told the clinic I had donated.”
“Yes,” Rebecca said.
“And she knew the donor lot.”
“Yes.”
“But she still told me the donor was a stranger.”
“That appears to be what happened.”
Brooke stood and walked to the kitchen window.
She had been home for two days.
Her body still moved like someone else’s.
On the table behind her sat breast-pump parts she had not yet decided whether to use.
She had planned to suppress lactation after the birth.
Now she could not decide anything without wondering whether the decision belonged to the woman she had been before the hospital room.
Nora stepped beside her.
“What are you going to do?”
Brooke watched rain collect along the fire escape.
“I’m going to stop asking Megan to tell me the truth.”
May you like
Nora waited.
“I’m going to make the records tell it for her.”
