Let It Be Me by Becky Wade (top young adult novels .TXT) 📕

“Your name is Leah, so how could you not like him?”

“Naturally. Princess Leia and I don’t spell or pronounce our name the same way, but we both have a weakness for scoundrels.” She angled the phone back toward herself and saw that just five minutes remained before their meeting. “Shall we?” She gestured toward the bank of elevators.

He nodded.

She tossed her cup in the trash as they crossed the lobby.

Once inside the elevator with an old man and young woman in scrubs, Sebastian punched eight and up they went.

“Han Solo is clearly the best character in the Star Wars galaxy,” Sebastian commented.

“Clearly.”

“Luke was too wholesome.”

“Too wholesome,” she agreed.

They exited on their floor and entered a suite of offices. The receptionist invited them to sit and informed them that Donna McKelvey, hospital administrator, would be with them shortly.

They sat.

Despite the high stakes of the coming meeting, Leah found it difficult to focus her thoughts on anything other than Sebastian’s nearness. Muscle laced his frame. She caught an intriguing whiff of cedar and citrus-scented soap. “Will you communicate my position on romance to Ben?” she asked, her voice pitched low.

“I don’t know how I can without revealing that I’ve talked to you about your dating life.”

“An excellent point. However, I would hate for him to put his dating life on hold on my account, seeing as how I’m not a viable option.”

“I think you should explain your position to him.”

“Without provocation? He’s never asked me out. It would read as presumptuous, would it not, if I suddenly announced my dating policy to him, absent of cause?”

“Have you considered the possibility, Leah, that you simply haven’t dated the right man yet?”

“Ms. Montgomery and Dr. Grant?” the receptionist said.

They rose, and the woman led them to Donna McKelvey’s corner office, which was no doubt the envy of her co-workers. The sky backlit her tall leather desk chair like a sunrise behind a throne.

Donna greeted them with firm handshakes. She wore a suit jacket, a red silk top, and a scarf patterned with red, white, yellow, and orange. Likely in her mid- to late-fifties, Donna had a stocky build, a pleasantly angular face, and a dark blond power bob. Had she been auditioning for the role of First Lady, Leah would have cast her at once.

They started with small talk, during which Donna interacted with Sebastian in a way that indicated that she’d like, very much, to poach him from Beckett Memorial.

Sebastian cut to the heart of the matter once they took their seats. “We scheduled this meeting today,” he told Donna, “because Leah was born here.”

The older woman turned an expectant look on Leah.

“I recently submitted my DNA for testing in order to gain insight into my genealogy,” Leah explained. “I learned that I’m not the biological daughter of either of my parents. I think that I was switched at birth here twenty-eight years ago.”

Donna’s smile slipped.

“Here’s the data I collected.” Leah removed a large envelope from her purse. Inside, she’d placed copies of all the relevant documents and DNA tests. She set the envelope on Donna’s desk.

“Occasionally, adoptive parents don’t inform their children that they’re adopted,” Donna said.

“That may be, but that’s not what happened in my situation,” Leah replied. “I called my mother after receiving the DNA test results. She’s always believed me to be her biological daughter. She was so certain the test was faulty that she encouraged me to take it again. Which I did. And now I’m here.”

Donna probably hadn’t been affiliated with this hospital at the time of Leah’s birth, so the fact that Leah had been given to the Montgomery family couldn’t reflect poorly on Donna personally. Yet it could reflect very poorly on the hospital as a whole—of which Donna was now the head.

“As you’ll see, my birth certificate shows that I was born to Erica and Todd Montgomery, the two people who raised me.” She relayed the events surrounding her mom’s labor and delivery.

Donna extracted the documents from the envelope and examined them. “Nowadays we take extreme precautions to make sure that this doesn’t happen.”

Donna’s statement implied that at the time of Leah’s birth, precautions may not have been quite so extreme.

Sebastian remained silent, intensity flowing from him.

As soon as Donna set down the papers, Leah spoke. “I’d like access to the hospital records concerning my birth. Are those records still in existence?”

“They are.”

Relief relaxed Leah’s spine.

“We keep old records off-site with a data management company,” Donna said. “We’ll simply need for you to fill out a records request form and for your mother to sign a waiver. A few days later we can have them here for you. You’re welcome to look at the original documents. Or we can provide print copies or copies in an electronic format.”

“I’d also like to examine the records of the other baby girls born on my birthday so that I can figure out who my biological parents are.”

Donna mounded her hands on top of her desk—a relaxed posture. However, white rimmed the edges of her fingertips, which informed Leah that her hands were exerting pressure. “That, I cannot do. You’ll understand that our patients’ records are kept in strictest privacy.”

“Of course,” Sebastian replied smoothly. “And you’ll understand that in sending two children home with the wrong parents, a negligent act was committed. If we return with a court order granting us access to the records, will you allow us to view them?”

“Should you return with a court order, I’ll be more than glad to cooperate with you as fully as the law permits.” Her attention settled on Leah. “However, it’s extremely unlikely that a judge will release the records of every baby girl born on your birthday. HIPAA laws are stringent. Almost certainly, you’ll have to show the judge why you believe yourself to be the biological daughter of, for example, John and Jane Doe. If you make a compelling case, the judge may release to you the records of only Baby Girl Doe, born here on your