"Babe, don't freak out, but I think I left my passport at home."
I turned toward Dereck.
We were at the airport for our anniversary trip.
He had reminded me twice the night before to check my travel documents.
Now he stood beneath the departure board, patting the pockets of a bag he had packed himself.
"You're joking."
"I wish."
For a moment, I thought we might still fix it.
My mother, Elaine, lived ten minutes from our house.
I offered to call her.
Dereck caught my wrist.
"I'll go myself."
"You won't make it back in time."
"Then we'll take a later flight."
I looked at him.
That was not like Dereck.
He was usually the first person to ask Mom for help.
She had fed our cat when we worked late, collected packages, and once driven a spare set of keys across town in the rain.
I called her anyway.
I asked her to check the drawer beside our bed.
Dereck watched every movement of my thumb.
"Fine," he said when I finished. "Whatever you think."
His voice was flat.
We sat near our gate.
I talked about the hotel and the ocean view.
He barely answered.
He checked his phone repeatedly but never appeared to read it.
Twenty minutes later, Mom called.
"Did you find it?"
"Honey, where is Dereck?"
"Beside me."
"Can he hear?"
I turned toward the terminal windows.
"No. What's wrong?"
Her breath shook.
"Honey, he set you up. Come home now."
I sat up straight.
"What did you find?"
"Don't board that plane. And don't tell him what I'm sending."
Dereck leaned toward me.
"Did she get it?"
"She's still looking."
"How can it take that long?"
My phone vibrated.
A photograph filled the screen.
Mom had opened the bedside drawer.
The passport was lying inside, exactly where Dereck had said it might be.
Beside it was a folded paper bearing my name.
I enlarged the image.
It was a printed appointment confirmation from a law office.
Below the address were the words: SIGNATURE VERIFICATION — SPOUSAL CONSENT.
The appointment was scheduled for Monday morning.
The first line identified our home.
The second identified a proposed home-equity loan.
The amount was $185,000.
I had never applied for that loan.
I had never agreed to borrow against our house.
And under my name was a sample of my signature.
Not written in my hand.
I knew the difference because the last letter of my surname curved the wrong way.
Another message arrived from Mom.
"There's more. I found your old driver's license copy and two pages with signatures. I'm staying here."
My hands went cold.
Dereck took a breath and smiled at me.
"So? Should we head toward the gate?"
I locked my phone.
"Mom can't find it. I need to go home."
He shook his head too quickly.
"No. We've already paid for everything."
"Without your passport, we aren't leaving."
"I'll sort that out. Just wait."
There was no way to sort it out at the gate.
I looked at the man I had married nine years earlier.
He was not worried about the missed vacation.
He was worried I would see what was in his drawer.
I stood, pulled my suitcase behind me, and walked toward the information desk.
He followed.
"What are you doing?"
"Changing my plans."
I did not know yet what the papers meant.
But I knew I had to get home before anyone moved them.
Click here to continue reading: PART 2: The Flight We Missed and the Papers My Mother Refused to Leave Alone
The Passport in the Drawer and the Photograph That Ended Our Anniversary Trip
Part 1 of 16
