Chapter 3
"Corinne Vance was my mother-in-law."
Opal said it without lifting her eyes.
The deputy drew the registration card back.
"Was?"
"My husband died before the fire."
"Corinne left after the funeral."
"She said she couldn't stay in Nebraska."
The deputy looked toward room eight.
"Does this woman know you?"
"I don't know what she knows."
A door opened down the walkway.
A young woman stood barefoot on the threshold.
A motel blanket covered her shoulders.
"Wes?"
The boy woke against Opal's arm.
"Mama."
He pushed upright.
Opal let the deputy help him down.
Etta reached him before he reached the door.
She dropped onto the wet concrete.
Her arms closed around his blanket.
"Where did you go?"
"I wanted breakfast."
"Your shoes were right there."
"They were wet."
Etta pressed her mouth against his hair.
Then she looked at Opal's coat around him.
"Who brought him?"
Walt raised one hand.
"Found him outside the office."
"I knocked, but nobody answered."
"I'm sorry I couldn't find your room."
Etta shook her head.
"Thank you."
"I took cold medicine."
"I thought he'd stay asleep."
The ambulance crew helped them inside.
Opal waited outside until the deputy waved her in.
The room held two grocery bags.
A pair of child's boots stood by the heater.
Damp socks hung over a chair.
Etta sat on the bed while a medic checked her.
Wes leaned against her side.
Opal stayed beside the door.
Etta noticed the keys in her hand.
Her gaze stopped on the bronze.
"Where did you get that?"
"My husband had it made."
"Two pieces that fit together."
Opal held it low, where Etta could see.
"He said we'd each keep half."
"When he died, I put his with our baby."
Etta reached for Wes's cord.
"I've had this since I was little."
"Who gave it to you?"
Etta glanced at the deputy.
"My mother."
Then she corrected herself.
"The woman who raised me."
The deputy pulled a chair closer.
"Corinne?"
Etta nodded.
"She called herself Corinne Lane at home."
"Lane was her maiden name."
Opal gripped the doorframe.
"Where did you live?"
"North of here."
"Outside town."
"We didn't go to school."
"She taught me at the house."
The medic finished checking Etta.
Her fever was mild.
Her breathing was clear.
He urged fluids and a clinic visit if it worsened.
Etta barely seemed to hear him.
She kept looking at Opal's keys.
"What was your baby's name?"
Before answering, Opal sat in the other chair.
"Etta Vance."
"Born in July, 2002."
Etta's hand stopped on Wes's hair.
"July nineteenth?"
Opal nodded.
The deputy wrote it down.
Etta looked at the scar on Opal's hand.
"How did that happen?"
"I tried to get back into her room."
"The door handle burned me."
Etta pulled the blanket closer.
"Corinne said you left."
Opal's mouth tightened.
"She said you didn't want a baby."
"I was twenty-one."
"I wanted my baby."
Wes watched the two women.
He touched his medal.
"She had the other one, Mama."
"I saw."
Etta's voice came out thin.
"But I have a paper."
She reached beneath her pillow.
A manila envelope lay there.
The corners had gone soft from handling.
"Corinne gave me this when I was eighteen."
"When I got pregnant."
"She said I needed to know."
Etta drew out a folded sheet.
"I asked her for my birth certificate again this week."
"She got mad."
"That's why we're here."
The deputy held out her hand.
"May I?"
Etta passed her the page.
Opal did not reach for it.
At the bottom was a signature.
Opal Vance.
It looked almost right.
The paper claimed she had surrendered her daughter.
It named Corinne as the person taking custody.
A second signature belonged to Dr. Harold Mercer.
Opal stared at that name.
"Our family doctor."
"He signed the death paperwork."
Etta shook her head.
"No."
"He was my doctor, too."
The deputy turned the page over.
There was no court stamp.
No case number.
Only the signatures and a date.
Opal leaned forward.
"What day does that say?"
"November tenth, 2002."
The blanket slid from Etta's shoulder.
According to the paper, Opal had given Etta away two days after the fire that supposedly killed her.