The Kindest Lie(87)

This room had been off-limits to Ruth and Eli growing up, and they’d obeyed, staying away, always speculating about what their grandparents kept hidden here. Just being in this room seemed subversive. The blood pumped through her veins stronger now. She ran her hand over the rings of wood on the dresser and pulled the top handle. The drawer was stubborn, and she yanked hard to get it unstuck. The drawer screeched and Ruth froze. She crept to the door and put her ear to it but didn’t hear any footsteps coming, just the sound of her niece and nephews.

When the dresser drawer finally opened enough, she reached inside and found an old pair of eyeglasses, a set of keys, and a denture case. She ran her hand along the inside and pulled out a laminated card with the name Hezekiah Tuttle on the front with a tiny, grainy photo of Papa. It had Fernwood printed in bold letters at the top, and she immediately recognized it as her grandfather’s work ID. She had so many questions to ask him, and staring at his photo reminded her of the futility of that wish.

Wiping away a tear, she went over to the closet and found rows of boxes on the shelf. As she expected from an older woman, Mama kept lots of papers.

She pulled down a few boxes and sat on the bed. Rent receipts. Tax returns going back decades. A pang of guilt stabbed her. She shouldn’t be snooping in Mama’s room, yet she felt compelled to keep going.

“Dinner’s almost ready! Get washed up!” Mama yelled from the kitchen, startling her.

She had to be quick. Opening the last box, she couldn’t believe what she found inside. Stacks and stacks of her report cards, from Driscoll Elementary to Mother Mary and Ganton High. Mama had saved them all.

The shuffling of feet outside the bedroom grew louder and she heard Teddy and Troy arguing over who got to use the soap first to wash their hands. This was no time to reminisce.

She riffled through the papers, uncovering church donation statements and, in a separate folder, Papa’s death certificate. She brought it to her face to take a closer look and then reached back in to see what was beneath it. She gasped.

A record of adoption for a male child born in August 1997.

At the top of the page, the Cunninghams were listed as the adoptive parents. Name of attorney: Stanley DeAngelo. Her stomach seized. She felt like she’d been kicked.

She had been right. This was her proof that he’d been the one to handle the case.

She focused her eyes on the page and saw what was filled in for the names of the biological parents:

Father: unknown

Birth mother: Ernestine Tuttle



Ruth’s hands flew to her mouth. How could this be? Why had DeAngelo listed Mama as Corey’s birth mother? A bitter taste coated her tongue and she thought she might vomit.

“Ruth, are you coming? I said dinner’s ready!”

Quickly, she put the boxes back on the shelf and shoved the folder under her arm and ran back to her own bedroom. With her phone, she hastily took a photo of the adoption form and texted it to Tess, asking her to discreetly share it with her attorney friend for help understanding what this all meant.

How would Ruth face her grandmother? A woman who had broken her trust and lied to her repeatedly. She had wanted to believe that DeAngelo duped Mama, an unsuspecting, innocent old lady. But was that the case?

Mama carried plates of piping-hot smothered chicken and candied yams to the dining room table and poured tall glasses of iced tea. When she laid eyes on Ruth’s hair, she seemed taken aback but said nothing.

Keisha kept up a constant chatter about every detail of the baptism: how cold the water was, how it stung her eyes, the way Pastor’s hand smelled like fish when he covered her mouth and nose.

Mama wielded a heavy hand with the Lawry’s seasoning for her smothered chicken. Family raved about it, but now it tasted like paper, and Ruth moved the meat around in her mouth until it turned to mush.

“What’s the matter, Ruth?” Mama asked. “Eat your supper.”

What was it about women of a certain age who always commanded people to eat? Eat, they said. Lena had done it when Butch raised a ruckus at dinner the other night, and now Mama issued the same command. As if stuffing them with food would satisfy a hunger that food couldn’t reach, a starving that was actually soul-deep. Teddy and Troy competed in a fierce battle of thumb wars but weren’t allowed to leave the table until they ate every green bean on their plates. Eli helped himself to seconds of Mama’s famous chicken. When they finished eating, Cassie took the kids to Eli’s old bedroom to watch YouTube videos. Silently, Ruth helped Mama and Eli clear the table and stack dirty dishes in the sink.

Ruth’s phone pinged. She glanced down and saw a text from Tess. A sharp pain seized Ruth’s whole body. According to her friend, DeAngelo would’ve needed her grandmother to apply for a birth certificate, pretending to be the biological mother, and list it as a home birth.

So, Mama had knowingly lied and said she had given birth to the baby. That made her an active participant in this sham, not an unwitting victim.

“Mama?” Ruth said, her voice deceptively gentle.

“Yes, baby?” She put an orange crusted pot in the sink to soak.

“You’ve been lying to me.”

Eli kept his eyes on the utensils he was drying, apparently sensing the trouble bubbling up in the room. Mama looked wounded, but quickly regained her composure.

“I’m not sure what this is all about, but I know it can wait until after we’ve finished cleaning up,” Mama said.