Paula closed her eyes against the pain. This story was stirring up things that were better left dead and buried. That part of her life was behind her, and she needed to focus on today and this story. But if she could find the Morgans’ child, maybe it would, in some small way, make up for what she’d done.
She consulted her time line. At somewhere around three o’clock, Steve Morgan left the NICU and went to wait for his wife to get out of surgery. Shortly after that, the surgeon told him everything had gone fine.
Steve sat by Deb as she came out from under the anesthesia. She was crying and hysterical and insisted on knowing about the baby. Steve told her there was little chance of survival. When Deb wanted to see the child, the doctor told her she could go to the NICU. The nurses wheeled Deb down to the NICU, where she saw the baby for the first time.
Paula scanned her notes from the NICU nurses. Two of them had been on shift until three o’clock. She interviewed only one of them as the other nurse was the one who’d died. She clicked her tongue and shook her head. Could that be the missing piece of the puzzle? Had that nurse known something that no one else knew?
Two nurses had come on their shift at three o’clock, but one of them was running late and was stopped for a speeding ticket. The nurse remembered this because it was her birthday, and she was coming from a luncheon with her parents. The second nurse was the one who was ill and unable to be interviewed.
Shortly after that, by the time Deb went down to the NICU, the baby seemed to be holding her own. At that time, Deb and Steve decided on the name Faith. When the doctor reexamined Faith, he said there’d been a marked improvement.
Looking at the notes from the doctor’s interview, Paula saw that he had expressed surprise that the baby turned around so quickly. But he also stated that sometimes things happen in medicine that are unexplainable except as a miracle, and he attributed the quick turnaround to exactly that.
Paula’s feet began to prickle, so she flipped over to lie on her stomach. At what point was the baby switched? Sometime after the first doctor pronounced her chances for survival poor but before Faith improved? That made sense, but it was also theoretically possible that the baby simply improved on her own and then the switch happened.
Paula needed to find out who the other premature babies in the hospital were that day. The nurse said there were always several babies at least, most of them premature. But she also pointed out that most of the babies had been in the NICU for a period of time and that the parents would recognize their own babies.
Squinting at the clock, Paula saw it was after midnight. She had a long day coming, and she’d need to be fresh if she was going to try and get to the bottom of this. Either way, tomorrow night she would go on the air with a story that might change more lives than just her own.
* * *
“I’m so nervous,” Deb Morgan said. She sat beside Steve on the couple’s living-room sofa, twisting the afghan that covered the cushions. The Morgans had decided not to include Faith in the interview since she was so young and because they’d only described to her vaguely what was happening.
“You’ll be fine,” Paula said. “It’s not live, so we’ll tape a short interview, then edit it. If you mess up, don’t sweat it. We’ll edit it out.”
“When will this air?” Steve was the picture of calm.
“On the six o’clock news. They’ll probably rerun it at eleven.”
Paula strove to keep a steady voice, but inside, her frazzled thoughts tugged at her nerves. She had tried all morning to track down the other parents who’d given birth the same day Deb had but ran into one dead end after another.
“Ready?” Her cameraman positioned a picture of the family on the sofa table, within view of the camera.
“Let’s do it,” Deb said.
The bright camera light went on. Paula glanced at her notes. She would make preliminary comments before the segment, so now she only needed to get answers to some questions to plug in at various points.
“Deb and Steve, how did you find out that the child you are raising isn’t the child you gave birth to?”
Steve answered the question, and Paula admired the way he stuck to the facts. He noted that Faith had been premature and mentioned the date and year Deb had given birth.
The next question she directed to Deb. The viewers would relate to this mother, and Paula wanted them to feel the family’s pain.
“Deb, how did you feel when you found out you were raising someone else’s birth child?”
Deb shook her head slowly. “I just . . . I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t believe it at first.” She looked to Steve. “We thought it was a mistake, as my husband said. But when we found out it was true . . . nothing can prepare you for learning that the child you thought was yours by blood isn’t yours at all. Even though we couldn’t love her any more than we do, blood-related or not.”
Deb was holding up very well, though Paula saw the lines of strain around her eyes and mouth.
“Once you knew the truth,” Paula asked, “what did you do?”
Steve folded his hands in his lap. “At first we wanted to do nothing. Faith is the most precious thing in our lives. We were terrified if we went forward with this, her birth parents would want her.”
“That’s the worst part of all this for us,” Deb said. “We don’t care if Faith isn’t our birth child. She means everything to us. To us she is our child, and the thought of losing her is almost more than we can bear.”
Paula asked a few more questions to detail the Morgans’ effort to get information from the hospital. Steve handled those questions nicely.
Then Paula continued, “This was a difficult decision for you. Why go forward with this information at all? Why not just keep it your little secret?”
It was the question all her viewers would want to know.
There was a poignant pause.
Steve took the question. “Somewhere out there is another set of parents just like us. They may be raising our birth child, or they may think they lost their baby shortly after she was born. Either way, they deserve to know the truth. ‘The truth shall set you free.’ We believe that.”
“Don’t you worry that this ‘truth’ will bring a custody battle? That Faith could become the next Kimberly Mays-Weeks?”
Deb leaned forward. “We’re aware it could happen, but we’re prepared to do anything necessary to protect our little girl. And we know God will help us through it.”
Steve put his arm around his wife. “If our birth child is out there somewhere, we owe it to her to find her.”
Deb’s chin rumpled up like a wrinkled sheet. “And if our child . . . died, we owe it to her to honor her with a proper burial.”
“What would you like to say to anyone who might have information about the switched babies?”
Steve looked directly at the camera for the first time. His brows pulled tight, and two dashes formed between them. “If you were at Chicago General Hospital at the same time, or if you have any information that might be helpful, please call the station.”
Deb turned toward the camera, too, and Paula noticed the cameraman zooming in.
“We need to know what happened to our birth child.” Deb’s eyes filled with tears. “And somewhere out there is another set of parents who may be wondering what happened to theirs.”
Paula let the words hang for a moment as Deb blinked rapidly, then looked down.
When the cameraman flipped off the bright light, the room seemed suddenly dark. Paula gave the Morgans a minute to regroup. Steve took Deb in his arms and held her like she was his lifeline.
When they parted, Paula squeezed Deb’s hand. “You both did great. Perfect.”
“Do you think it’ll do any good?” Deb asked.
Paula wished she could promise they’d get all the answers they wanted. “If someone out there knows anything and they see this, it may be just the break we need.”
* * *
After Paula left the Morgans’
house, she headed to the station to write the copy on the story. It wasn’t every day a switched-at-birth story came along. She still couldn’t believe the way it had fallen into her hands. Her mother would say it was God’s doing, but God would have no reason for helping Paula’s career along. After all, it wasn’t as if she’d given Him anything lately.
Miles came to her cubicle as she was writing up the story. “Did you get everything you needed?”
There was a light in his eyes that Paula knew stemmed from the excitement of breaking a big story.
“The Morgans did great. I’m just putting it together now.”
“I know you’ll do a great job with the copy.” He turned to go, then stopped. “You know, once this goes out to the AP, don’t be surprised if it gets picked up nationally.”
It was what Paula was hoping for.
“Let’s hope and pray,” she said, wondering a second later why she’d added the part about praying.
But Miles didn’t seem to mind. He winked and walked away.
CHAPTER
NINE
Paula flicked on the small TV set in her studio apartment and crossed her legs, her foot ticking off the final minutes before the eleven o’clock news. The story had aired shortly after six o’clock that evening, but she was in front of the camera then. Now she would get to watch it as a viewer and see if Miles’s assessment was correct. The whole news station was abuzz with the switched-at-birth story. The Morgans had called her earlier and told her how pleased they were with the way she’d handled the story.
Too anxious to sit still, she got up and paced the room. The African violet from the station sat on the living-room window sill, and Paula realized it was time for a watering. The directions had said to use a specially formulated plant food, but the store she’d gone to hadn’t carried it, so she’d substituted a complete liquid food. Keeping a close eye on the clock, she put the plant food in the water and set the potted plant in it to feed from the bottom.
Leaving the plant to soak, she dried her hands and went back to the living room where the news jingle was playing on TV. Paula cranked up the volume. The anchor introduced himself and moved immediately to the head story: hers. She watched herself, standing in front of the Chicago General Hospital sign, introduce the story, then there was a cut directly to the Morgans’ living room. Steve talked about the logistics of what had happened, then Paula was on the screen again, explaining the possible devastation this could ultimately cause.
Next there was a closeup of Deb. “We know finding answers may break our hearts. But my husband and I—we both have to know the truth. When we told Faith that I hadn’t given birth to her, she said, ‘But you’re still my mommy and daddy, right?’ She’ll always be our daughter. No test can change that.” The cameraman zoomed in while Deb blinked back tears.
Paula again. “While the Morgans fear losing their child, their biggest fear is that they will never know what happened to the child Deb gave birth to three years ago.”
The final scene was Steve and Deb’s final plea for anyone with information to come forward.
The shot switched to Paula. “While the true identification of this child remains a mystery, the Morgans have done everything they know to find answers to this switched-at-birth story. Now they wait. This is Paula Landin-Cohen, reporting from Chicago General Hospital.”
The shot changed to the anchor, and Paula switched off the TV. Her heart was about to jump out of her chest, and her foot was still ticking off time. It was good. Her best ever, she thought. She’d spent a long time on that little bit of copy, and she was pleased with the final product.
She got up and paced across the wood floor toward the open dining area. Then she turned and paced back to the living room. Over and over she traced her steps. What would happen now? Would someone respond to their plea? Would Paula get to follow up the story and be the one who solved the mystery for the Morgans? She hoped for that. Not only would it benefit the couple, it sure wouldn’t hurt her career, either. The anchor chair was looking closer every minute.
Darrick had been distant all day, undoubtedly unhappy that things were going so well for the new reporter. To say nothing of her being a woman. She was the underdog for the chair, and they both knew it. But now she had a fighting chance.
* * *
Linn rang up the customer’s Americano and handed him his change. “Thank you.”
The middle-aged man greeted Adam and propped an elbow on the counter while Adam started the three shots of espresso.
“How ya doing, Ken?” Adam asked while Linn took the next order.
Mornings were so busy they hardly had time to visit the rest room when nature called.
“Aw, I’m OK. Got a long day ahead with appointments way past dark.”
“Business must be going good then,” Adam said.
“Can’t complain about that. My youngest is sick with the flu bug, though. Sure hope the rest of the family doesn’t get it, with Christmas coming up. Speaking of kids, did you hear that story on the news last night? The one about those babies that got switched at birth here in Chicago?”
“It’s been the talk of the shop this morning. I didn’t see the clip though.”
Linn hadn’t seen it, either. She rarely watched the news except to see what the weather was going to be. She had enough bad news of her own without having to hear someone else’s. Charlotte was moving out today. When Linn got home, there’d be next to no furniture left in the little apartment. The only person who’d responded to her ad for a roommate was a guy, and there was no way she was sharing space with a guy. Besides, he’d creeped her out even across the phone lines. Which reminded her—she was not going to have a phone when Charlotte moved out. Great.
Linn handed the girl her change and passed the mocha order across the counter to Adam.
His smile made her insides heat up like a Bunsen burner. They’d been so busy while he trained her that they hardly shared any personal details. But sometimes seeing a guy react to others was the best education of all. He was kind to everyone, even the persnickety customers who complained every time they came in. Linn just wanted to tell them if they were that unhappy with their drinks every day, they should go somewhere else. But Adam handled them with ease.
Only once had he shown any sign of irritation. It had been on her second day . . .
* * *
Linn was trying to ring up an order for someone who had an account at the shop. It was a first for her, and Adam was in the back making a smoothie for someone who didn’t seem to think it was cold enough outside. There was a line a mile long, and this man kept glancing at his watch as though he needed to be someplace five minutes ago. Maybe he should have skipped the latte this morning.
Linn couldn’t figure out how to find the customer’s existing account, and she didn’t know how to start his shots of espresso since Adam had only trained her on the register.
“Look, can’t you just make my drink and charge me later? I’m in a hurry.” The older man had a furrow between his brows that arched downward, mirroring the frown on his mouth.
“I’m sorry, sir, I haven’t been trained to do drinks yet.” She pushed another button, hoping it would pull up the accounts.
The man looked at his watch again. “Where’s the other workers? Look, I can tell you what to do. I’ve seen them make it a thousand times.”
Anxiety zipped through Linn like electricity. She glanced toward the back, wondering what was taking Adam so long.
Just then the phone rang. Shoot. “I’m sorry. Excuse me.” She picked up the phone, watching the man cross his arms and huff.
She answered the caller’s question about their closing time and hung up only to see she was still facing the same angry customer . . . with no Adam in sight.
“Do I have to come back there and make it myself?” He swore.
Linn felt her face go hot as all the customers in line got quiet and stared at her. “Let me go get someone who can help, sir.”
Before she could turn, Adam appeared at her side. His jaw was all tense, and his nostrils flared.
Oh, great, she was in trouble now. She should have figured this out by now. What if he thought she was as incompetent as the last girl who’d had this job?
But instead of addressing her, he put his hands on the edges of the countertop. “Is there a problem, sir?” His voice was quiet and intense.
“Look, I’m late, and this girl can’t seem to do much of anything. She’s worse than the last girl.”
Linn wanted to crouch down behind the register and hide for a good twenty minutes. At least long enough for all these people to leave.
“She’s been on the job for all of nine hours,” Adam was saying. His ever-present smile was gone, and he was squeezing the edge of the countertop so hard that three long bones fanned out on the backs of his hands. “She hasn’t been trained to make drinks yet. And if you’re running that late, maybe you shouldn’t stop for coffee on the way.”
The man’s eyes narrowed as he gave Adam a look that would have melted Linn into a puddle. “Your boss will be hearing about this.”
When he turned and stormed out the door, Linn sighed. The next customer slid forward as Adam squeezed her arm, then pushed the smoothie across the counter to the teenager who’d been waiting for it.
Later Adam apologized for the guy. He assured her she was doing great and that Joe would understand even if the guy did complain. The scene played repeatedly in Linn’s mind that night as she tried to fall asleep. But it wasn’t the impatient man who stood out in her thoughts. It was Adam and the way he stood up for her. The way he protected her and made her feel cared for and cherished. And no man had ever made her feel that way before.
* * *
Even now Linn was reliving the scene, and she knew it was not good. She had to focus on finding a roommate. Soon school would be starting, and she’d really need to apply herself. She wasn’t going to blow this scholarship and her chance at a future. Jackson Hole was in the past, and there was no going back now.