His brain flipped through the information she’d provided. “In the state of Georgia, hospitals are only required to retain records for ten years.”

A few seconds of quiet followed. “You’re saying that the records of my birth have been destroyed.”

“I’m saying that it’s possible. Some hospitals, including my own, never destroy anything.”

“I see.” She sounded disappointed, and he didn’t want to disappoint her.

“How about I make an appointment for the two of us with the hospital administrator at Magnolia Avenue? If your records still exist, we’ll need the cooperation of those at the top of the hospital food chain in order to access them. We’ll also need a court order.”

“A meeting with the administrator would be excellent.”

“When will you be available to drive to Atlanta for a meeting?”

“There are only six days of school left. Summer vacation starts June tenth, so anytime after that should work.”

“I’ll set up an appointment as soon as possible after that date. In the meantime, I recommend you gather all the documents you have. Your birth certificate. Printouts of your DNA test results. Information on your mother’s pregnancy, and anything else you can think of.”

“Will do.”

“I’ll call you when I have a meeting arranged.”

She’d given him a chance to advocate for her, which pleased him more than anything had in a long time. He wanted to repay her for what she’d done for him the day of his accident.

And so he would, while keeping things simple and platonic between them.

While Leah had been talking to Sebastian, she’d descended her front walkway, crossed the street, and continued along the dirt trail that wound downhill.

Now she spent a few moments admiring the view of her very own Blue Ridge Mountain valley. She adored it at this time of day, painted in the thoughtful golden tones of the coming sunset.

Sticking her phone in the pocket of her white jeans, she started back up the path. Her house came into view. Small, yet also an architectural work of art.

After she’d accepted her position at Misty River High, she’d spent a Saturday touring available houses with her Realtor. They’d viewed a string of conventional, uninspiring homes. Then her Realtor had said something along the lines of “This next one is a little unorthodox, but it’s in a great location and the price is right.” The older woman hadn’t sounded hopeful, so Leah hadn’t felt hopeful, either. Then her Realtor had come to a stop here, at the base of the steep driveway. Leah had peered out the car’s front window and promptly fallen in love.

The majority of Misty River homebuyers sought out rustic cabins, traditional brick homes, or the spindly Victorians in the oldest section of town. Not Leah. This mid-century modern gem suited her taste perfectly.