Chapter 2 - The Name on the Draft
By the second day, the hospital had settled into a predictable, agonizing routine. The shift nurse, a woman named Sarah with tired eyes and a soft touch, stopped asking Claire if she wanted to hold the baby. Instead, she directed all her questions to Anna, who had barely left the vinyl armchair in the corner of the room.
"We need to submit the birth certificate information by noon," Sarah said, standing at the foot of the bed with a clipboard. She didn't look at Claire, but her posture was stiff, disapproving. "The state requires a legal name for the child before we can process the discharge papers tomorrow morning."
Anna looked up from the bassinet, where she was carefully wiping a line of formula from the baby's chin with a white cloth. "We’re still... we’re still finalizing that. Can we leave it as 'Baby Girl Bennett' for now?"
"It complicates the adoption transfer," Sarah said, her voice dropping into a professional murmur. "If the name on the original certificate doesn't match the names on the relinquishment petitions, the court in county probate will reject the first filing. It’s better to have a name now."
"Grace," Anna said, her eyes fixed on the baby's dark curls. "We’re going with Grace."
"No," Claire said.
The word was louder than she intended, cutting through the low hum of the breast pump in the adjacent room. She sat up in bed, the motion sending a sharp, tearing pain through her abdominal muscles. She ignored it, her eyes locked on her sister.
"Claire, we talked about this," Anna said, her voice rising in frustration. She set the cloth down on the rolling table. "Grace is my middle name. It’s Mom’s name. It’s a family name."
"It’s not her name," Claire said. She felt a strange, hot pressure behind her eyes—the first real heat she had felt since the labor began. "You can't just plaster a name over her to make her fit into your house, Anna. She isn't a doll you bought at a store."
"And she isn't a secret you can keep in a drawer!" Anna snapped, her maternal softness vanishing in an instant. She stood up, her arms crossed over her chest, stepping between Claire and the bassinet as if protecting the child from her sister’s voice. "I am the one who is going to take her home tomorrow. I am the one who has spent three thousand dollars on a nursery, who has taken six weeks of unpaid leave from the agency, who has explained to every neighbor on our street why I’m suddenly bringing a newborn home. If I’m going to be her mother, I get to name her."
"She already has a name," Claire whispered, her voice suddenly losing its strength. She looked down at her hands, where her wedding ring sat loose on her finger, a band of gold that felt too heavy for her skin. "Daniel chose it. He spent three hours in the backyard the night before the accident, cleaning the lawnmower and talking about how he wanted to teach her to fish. He kept saying, 'Emma will love the lake, Claire. Just wait until Emma sees the water.'"
Anna’s shoulders dropped. The anger went out of her, leaving her looking tired and thin in the harsh fluorescent light of the room. She walked back to the chair and sat down, her hand reaching out to touch the plastic edge of the bassinet.
"You never told me that," Anna said softly.
"Because if I told you, it would make her real," Claire said. "And if she’s real, then he’s really gone, and I’m really here, and I have to explain to her someday why her father is a name on a stone in the ground."
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"Claire..."
"Don't," Claire said, turning her face back toward the wall. "Don't say you're sorry. Just call her Emma. If you're going to keep her, at least give her that."
