“You gave me proof before I even had the chance to doubt you.”

He gave a weak laugh.

“That was the idea.”

Over the next several days, Natalie became increasingly impatient.

“What was in the envelope?”

“Why are you hiding things?”

“What did the attorney say?”

I didn’t lie.

I told her it involved something legal and financial Dad had been arranging.

I told her I would explain when the paperwork was finished.

That wasn’t enough for her.

“You’re keeping secrets from me now,” she snapped one evening. “Just like your father.”

“It’s not a secret. It’s a process.”

“How convenient.”

That word bothered me.

Convenient.

My father had almost died.

A woman I never knew had died alone.

My entire understanding of where I came from had just changed.

And Natalie seemed most concerned with the financial part.

Two weeks later, when all the documents were finalized, I told her everything.

The adoption.