Claiming Noah

by Amanda Ortlepp

  Diana didn’t know anything about her son. She didn’t know his favourite food, or what television shows he liked to watch, or whether he could count to ten. She didn’t know how to care for a two year old – how often they slept and how much they ate – except for what she had read online. Ruth had told them that he knew his name as Sebastian, but Diana didn’t want to call him that. So instead she avoided using any name at all, and hoped he was young enough that she could soon starting calling him Noah without confusing him too much. But despite all this, Diana wasn’t going to let Noah’s confusion and lukewarm attitude upset her. She had her son back with her now and that was the most important thing. The rest would come later.

  ‘You can sleep in our bed, if you want,’ she said to Liam as he brushed his teeth. She sat on the edge of the bathtub, watching him. ‘I’m going to sleep on the floor in Noah’s room, just in case he wakes up and gets scared because he doesn’t know where he is.’

  Liam spat his mouthful of toothpaste into the sink. ‘Thanks but it’s fine, I’m happy in the study.’

  He turned to leave the bathroom but then, as if as an afterthought, he turned back around, walked over to Diana and leaned down to kiss her cheek. ‘Good night,’ he said before walking out the door.

  She smiled to herself. Well, that was a start. This was day one of the rest of their lives, and before she knew it she would have her son and husband back to normal, back to the happy life she vaguely remembered living.

  • • •

  Before Sergeant Thomas had a chance to call her, Diana found out for herself why James Sinclair kidnapped her son.

  It was a breaking news story. Diana never normally had the television on during the day, but for reasons she couldn’t explain she turned it on while Noah was having a nap, exhausted from another bout of playing with Ninja.

  Perhaps if she had prepared herself to see the face of the man who had committed such a savage crime against her, the face of evil, she may have had a different reaction. But the face of evil didn’t look the way Diana had expected it to. The man she had met when she inspected the pram being sold on eBay – the man she now knew had kidnapped her son – looked just like every other man she passed on the street. In the photo on the news he was about forty years old, nice looking with a clean-shaven face and closely trimmed curly brown hair. He looked like the type of man you would see walking the dog on the weekend, or playing with his kids in the park. He didn’t look like the type of person who would kidnap an infant. In fact, he looked just the way Diana thought Noah would look when he grew up. And there was a very good reason for that: James Sinclair was Noah’s biological father.

  At first, Diana thought she had misheard the female television reporter. But then she repeated it. Diana’s next thought was that James Sinclair was lying. She was Noah’s mother and she had only met the man once, when she inspected the pram; clearly she hadn’t conceived a child with him. Liam was Noah’s father; there was no question about that. But as the television reporter kept talking the truth behind James Sinclair’s statement began to take shape and the bile rose in Diana’s throat as her body reacted to her sudden realisation of who this man actually was.

  Diana had often wondered at the motives of the man who took her baby; a mental disability maybe, or an inability to have children of his own? She would never in a million years have guessed that the kidnapper had any connection to her son. But he had an incredibly strong connection to him. He had contributed half of Noah’s genes.

  When Sergeant Thomas told Diana they had arrested the man who kidnapped her son she had assumed he was a monster of the worst order; a hateful, malevolent person without any conscience or sense of right and wrong. What other reason could there be for someone to commit a crime against people he didn’t even know? This man had made her child treat her like a stranger and her husband look straight through her without any remnants of the love he had once shown her. But how could that same man have selflessly allowed Diana and Liam to adopt the embryo that had given them Noah?

  Diana had never thought much about Noah’s donor parents, except at the counselling session she and Liam attended before their implantation. She had carried Noah through pregnancy, given birth to him, breast-fed him, rocked him to sleep, soothed him when he was crying. He was her son in every way . . . wasn’t he? But now James Sinclair was saying he and his wife were Noah’s parents and, in a way, maybe he was right.

  The phone rang the moment she switched off the television.

  ‘Did you see it?’ Sergeant Thomas asked.

  Diana made a noise that he treated as an affirmation.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said. ‘I wish you’d heard it from me. I told the guys not to do any media interviews until I’d spoken to you.’

  ‘So, it’s true?’

  ‘Yes, we think so.’

  ‘What does this mean?’

  ‘It doesn’t give him the right to kidnap a child, no matter who he is. His bail request was denied and the date for his committal hearing has been set for next month. It’ll probably go to trial, presuming he pleads not guilty, but that could be months away. You’ll be asked to testify, of course.’

  Diana hadn’t thought about that. But she was the only witness they had, even though she hadn’t proved to be a very helpful one.

  ‘Of course, whatever you need.’

  ‘You’re an amazing woman, Diana Simmons,’ Sergeant Thomas said. ‘I’m in awe of how well you’ve held up through this whole ordeal. The prosecutor will be in touch with you to discuss your responsibilities as a witness.’

  ‘Okay.’

  There was a pause on the other end of the phone. ‘How’s Noah settling in?’

  ‘Not great,’ Diana said. ‘He barely slept last night. He kept crying out for his mother.’

  His mother. The words tasted like acid on her tongue. Because it was the truth, wasn’t it? That other woman, James Sinclair’s wife, she was Noah’s mother. Is Noah’s mother. So, what did that make Diana?

  ‘Did she know about it?’ she asked Sergeant Thomas, hearing the bitterness in her voice. ‘That man’s wife – was she part of this too?’

  ‘We don’t think so. She hasn’t been charged.’

  Diana didn’t know if that made her feel better or worse. Sergeant Thomas didn’t seem to know what else to say to her, so she ended the conversation when the doorbell rang.

  She answered the door, the phone hanging limp in her hand.

  ‘Wow,’ Eleanor said.

  ‘So, you saw it too?’

  Eleanor nodded as she walked through the open door into the hallway and hugged her daughter. ‘I guess Sergeant Thomas hadn’t told you about that?’

  ‘Not yet.’ Diana said. She picked up her locket from around her neck and twisted its chain. ‘What do you think about that? About the fact that Noah is . . . you know.’

  ‘That he’s their son?’ Eleanor asked.

  Diana nodded, still twisting her necklace. ‘I mean, it’s true, isn’t it? Noah doesn’t have our genes. He’s not our biological child.’

  Eleanor gently pulled the locket out of her grasp and then tilted Diana’s chin upwards with her fingers so she was looking into her eyes. ‘Now, you listen to me, darling. Noah is your son, one hundred per cent. You gave birth to him, you looked after him for the first two months of his life. You’re his mother. It doesn’t matter what some scientist in a lab would say. You have to promise me you won’t ever doubt that, okay?’

  ‘But you saw what James Sinclair looks like. There’s no doubting that he’s Noah’s father, they look so similar. Noah has inherited genes from this man, and his wife, and nothing I do can ever change that.’

  ‘So what?’ Eleanor said. ‘Noah looks like you and Liam as well.’

  ‘I guess so.’ Diana lowered her gaze and stared at a point over her mother’s shoulder. ‘But what about the genes we can’t see? This man kidnapped a child. A normal person would never do that. What if Noah has inherited some . . . I don’t know
. . . some dangerous gene that means he’s going to become a criminal when he’s older?’

  Eleanor shrugged her shoulders dismissively. ‘Maybe he did. And maybe the only thing that’s going to be able to overcome that gene is a loving mother who will raise him properly and teach him right from wrong. And a doting nonna who reinforces those lessons.’

  Diana smiled. ‘Thanks, Mum. You’re right. I know you’re right.’

  • • •

  Later that day, against her better judgement, Diana turned the television on again to watch the evening news, hoping for more information about James Sinclair. It was the second news story, but the reporter just repeated what Diana had heard that morning.

  Liam appeared in the doorway to the living room, with a case of beer nestled under one of his arms.

  ‘Why are you watching that?’ he asked, looking at the television screen.

  ‘I don’t know. I guess I was just looking for some answers.’

  ‘Did you find them?’ he asked as he walked through the living room to the kitchen, without looking at her.

  ‘Not really.’

  Diana hadn’t told Liam that the kidnapper was Noah’s biological father, and she wasn’t sure how he would react when he found out. She followed him into the kitchen and stood behind him for a few seconds, watching him load the bottles of beer into the fridge. The shelves were empty. She needed to go grocery shopping, but she didn’t want to let Noah out of her sight. And she wasn’t game to leave the house with him yet. It didn’t feel safe anywhere other than inside the house.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked without pausing from what he was doing.

  ‘Liam, there’s something you need to know about James Sinclair.’

  When Liam didn’t respond she added, ‘It’s important. It affects Noah. Can you please stop doing that for a minute?’

  When he didn’t turn around she pulled the case of beer out of the way and kicked the fridge door closed with her foot. ‘This is important, damn it. It concerns your son. Turn around and listen to me.’

  Liam stood up and turned around to face her. ‘What are you doing? Why are you acting so crazy?’

  ‘I just needed your attention.’ But now that she had Liam’s full attention she felt her heartbeat quicken and her palms become sweaty. She knew he was going to blame all of this on her, just like he had with Noah’s kidnapping.

  She paced the floor of their small kitchen while Liam watched her. ‘James Sinclair admitted something. About why he took Noah from me that day in the supermarket.’

  ‘And why was that? Because he’s crazy? Don’t tell me he’s going to try to claim he has some mental disorder at his trial to get out of his sentence.’

  Diana shook her head. ‘No, no. It’s not that.’

  ‘Well, what is it? Spit it out, Di.’

  She stopped pacing, took a deep breath, and looked Liam in the eyes. ‘James Sinclair is Noah’s biological father. The embryo we adopted . . . James Sinclair and his wife were the ones who donated it.’

  Diana waited for the shock to register on Liam’s face, but he barely reacted to her revelation. She may as well have just told him they were out of milk.

  ‘Don’t you understand what I just said?’ she asked him.

  Liam shrugged, opened the fridge door and resumed putting away the bottles of beer. ‘I know that. Sergeant Thomas called me at work this afternoon. But that doesn’t mean that guy has any claim over Noah. We adopted him; we’re his legal parents. There’s no grey area. Noah is our son.’

  ‘How can you be so blasé about this? Don’t you realise what that means? James Sinclair took Noah because he’s his son and he thinks he should be with him and his wife.’

  Liam laughed. ‘Well, he’ll have a hard time being a father from prison.’ He turned to look at Diana as the smile disappeared from his face. ‘What, do you agree with him? Do you think he’s more Noah’s father than I am?’

  Diana didn’t know how to respond. ‘Well, no, not legally . . . but biologically—’

  Liam slammed the fridge door shut. ‘I’m Noah’s father. I thought you of all people wouldn’t ever question that.’ Diana had seen that hateful look on Liam’s face before; it was the same way he had looked at her at the police station after Noah was kidnapped. ‘But if you think that, then you must also think this James Sinclair guy’s wife is more Noah’s mother than you are. She probably wouldn’t have let her baby be kidnapped from a supermarket because she wasn’t paying enough attention to him.’

  The phone rang at the same time Noah started to cry, roused from his sleep by their fighting.

  ‘You get that, I’ll go check on Noah,’ Liam said, pointing at the phone. ‘My son,’ he added for emphasis as he walked out of the kitchen towards Noah’s bedroom.

  Diana sighed as she picked up the phone. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hi, sis. How are you?’

  Diana sighed again, but this time it was with relief. It was her brother, Tom. ‘I’m okay. It’s so nice to hear your voice. How are you? How’s Jerry?’

  Diana had always liked Jerry; he was a good complement to Tom’s personality. He practised family law and reminded Diana of a father from a 1950s television sitcom: neatly dressed, clean-shaven, sensible haircut. His shirt was always tucked into his pants and she had never seen him wear unironed clothes or scuffed shoes. He was the opposite to her usually unkempt brother who had resisted the accountant stereotype by sporting long hair and a full beard, as well as several tattoos on his arms. But after watching them together for the past five years, Diana felt that they had something special.

  ‘We’re fine, but I don’t want to talk about us. We haven’t just had our child returned to us after nearly two years. How’s Noah? What was it like seeing him again after so long?’

  ‘Amazing,’ Diana said. ‘I can’t take my eyes off him. He’s adorable.’

  ‘How’s Liam? I bet he’s thrilled to have Noah back as well.’

  Noah had stopped crying and Diana heard the door to the study close. She probably wouldn’t see Liam again for hours. ‘I’m sure he is.’

  ‘Everything okay?’ Tom asked cautiously.

  Diana tried not to cry. ‘It’s just difficult. I thought once Noah was home things would be different between me and Liam, but nothing’s changed.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

  Diana shook her head to rid herself of her unhappy thoughts and forced a cheery note into her voice. ‘Now, don’t let me get all melodramatic again. Everything’s fine. I have my son back.’

  Noah started to cry again. Diana waited a few seconds, but she didn’t hear Liam emerge from the study.

  ‘I have to go,’ she said to Tom, ‘but thanks for calling. Come visit us soon, okay?’

  ‘I will, I promise. Love you, sis.’

  ‘Love you too.’

  Diana hung up the phone and walked towards Noah’s room. She paused by the closed study door. She could hear a movie playing so loudly that it nearly drowned out the noise of Noah’s cries. She contemplated opening the door so she could apologise to Liam, but then she thought better of it and walked towards Noah’s room. Liam didn’t deserve her apology.

  As Diana entered Noah’s bedroom he stopped crying and smiled at the sight of her. She lifted him out of his cot and hugged him. She felt his resistance at first, but then his small arms wrapped around her neck and he returned her embrace. At that small sign of affection she felt her anger and disappointment melt away. She had her son back, and he was hugging her, and nothing else mattered.

  17

  CATRIONA

  Saturday, 8 February 2014

  Catriona sat on the floor of her kitchen among the ruins of the birthday cake she had thrown against the wall, ignoring the sound of the doorbell announcing the guests for Sebastian’s party. Her phone rang incessantly and someone – probably one of her parents – rapped on the living room window for several minutes before finally leaving. She stared at the wall, knees hugged to her chest, eyes dry an
d unblinking, unable to think about anything other than the expression on her son’s face when he was taken away from her. She shouldn’t have let them take him. She should have demanded to go with them, to find out why they thought Sebastian was some other child. How could they have done this to her? They had detonated a grenade at her front door and let it rip her life to pieces.

  The officer had told Catriona to wait for someone to call her, but after an hour and a half she couldn’t wait any longer to find out where her son was. She rang the emergency number for the police, not knowing what other number to call, and after being transferred a few times she spoke to someone who told her to come to Burwood police station to provide her statement.

  She couldn’t remember driving to the police station, but somehow she made it there with the directions she’d been given and was escorted into a room. For a few minutes she sat alone, on a hard plastic chair, until she was joined by a male police officer who looked barely out of his teens. Catriona studied his face while he wrote on a notepad. He had only the slightest fuzz of hair on his chin.

  ‘Do you have to shave every day?’ she asked him.

  He looked up from his notepad, startled. ‘What?’

  ‘It’s just . . . sorry, I don’t know why I asked you that. You just don’t look old enough to be here, that’s all.’

  ‘Oh. That’s okay. I’m twenty-four.’ He offered her a small smile. ‘I shave every second day.’

  After making a few more notes the officer put down his pen and looked at her. ‘Mrs Sinclair, we’d like to take a statement from you in relation to the kidnapping of Noah Simmons. As you know we have placed your husband under arrest and we are questioning him on the same matter separately. Can we please start with where you were on the eighth of May the year before last?’

  She blinked at him. ‘How would I remember that?’

  ‘Please try. It’s very important that we establish your whereabouts on the day the kidnapping took place.’