Dr. Hale got up and came over and took her other hand. He didn’t say anything. He just held it.
Grandma took the yellow envelope out of her handbag.
“Ruth,” she said. “I brought something for you.”
She took out the old birth certificate. The original. She unfolded it and laid it on the white blanket over Ruth’s chest.
Ruth looked down at it. Her eyes moved across the typed words.
Mother: Ruth Anne Calloway.
Father: Thomas James Hale.
“You kept it,” she whispered.
“I kept it,” Grandma said. “Fifty-one years. In my top dresser drawer. Under Frank’s wedding handkerchief.”
“Daddy turned the whole house upside down looking for this,” Ruth said. “After I came home. He knew I’d taken it. He never found it.”
“You told me someday he should know,” Grandma said. “Michael, I mean. You said someday he should know where he came from.” Her voice broke. “I’m so sorry, Ruth. I waited too long. I always thought there’d be more time.”
