Roses are red
Violets are blue
Your very pretty
I want to mete you
She wavered between chuckling and cringing. The simplicity of the words seemed childlike, but they gave her the creeps too.
“Fan letter?” Darrick asked as he walked by her desk.
“Something like that.” She perused the words on the paper. “Actually, it’s a little weird.” She gave a little laugh as she handed it to him. “I think it came from a child.”
He read the note, a thoughtful frown pulling at his eyebrows. “You think? The script is pretty small for a kid.”
“But the words you’re and meet are misspelled.”
He hitched up his shoulder. “Lots of adults can’t spell.” He handed it back to her. “Probably just some lovesick fan. It’s part of being in the public eye. Wait’ll you get a marriage proposal.”
“I can hardly wait.”
A man Paula didn’t recognize passed by with Cindy, and they stopped beside her desk.
“Hey, guys,” Cindy said. “This is Stan. We’ve just hired him to work with information technology. Stan, these are two of our reporters, Paula and Darrick.”
Stan smiled and shook their hands. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
When the phone at Paula’s desk rang, Cindy, Darrick, and Stan moved along. She answered the phone, and Deb Morgan greeted her.
“Paula, you’re not going to believe it, but guess who called this morning.” Deb’s voice was like three shots of espresso.
“I don’t know, who?”
“Good Morning America! They want to interview us.”
Paula sat up straight in her ergonomic chair. Good Morning America. “When?” Excitement buzzed through her like a jolt of electricity. Her story was going national.
“They’re flying us out tomorrow, and we’ll do the interview early the next morning. I can hardly believe it. I’m so nervous. What if this is a mistake? What if we start getting hounded by the media? What if some kooks start calling? And what if I mess up the interview and say something—”
“Deb, calm down. It’s going to be fine. You’re doing the right thing. This is just the thing that can help us solve your problem. The answer to this mystery may very well be beyond the scope of Chicago. If someone out there knows something, this will help us find them.”
“Oh, I know you’re right. I’m just so nervous. The Tribune called, too, and set up an interview with us.”
“That’s good. All the media coverage is just what you want if you want to find out what happened to your birth child. I’m not finding any clues in my notes, but I’m going to interview the nurses again.”
“Thanks, Paula; we really appreciate everything you’ve done. We’re grateful that you’ve treated it as more than just another news story.”
After Paula hung up, she went to Miles’s office and told him the good news. When his eyes lit up, Paula knew the anchor chair and her dream career were getting closer all the time.
* * *
Paula spent her free time the next two days interviewing the nurses and doctor about the Morgans’ story. She was still unable to get an interview with one of the nurses, Louise Garner. Her son insisted she was too ill to conduct an interview.
On the morning of the big Good Morning America program, she paced the apartment like she was on a sugar high, glancing at the TV set and wishing they’d hurry up and get to the Morgans. They announced the story would be coming on later and showed the Morgans sitting in the studio before cutting away to a medical researcher who claimed a study he’d done proved that sugar improves memory retention.
As she walked by her cell phone, she had an urge to call David. This was a big moment, and she didn’t want to spend it alone. They’d been e-mailing back and forth, and she knew he’d be watching the program, but she wanted to watch it with him.
He answered on the first ring. “Hi, honey.”
“I’m so nervous. I just wish they’d get on with it already. I’m about to chew up my manicure.”
“Stop pacing and sit down.”
A smile pulled at her lips. “How did you know I was pacing?”
“Same way I knew you’d call.”
She savored the words in the silence. No one knew her like David. She didn’t realize how much she missed him until the night of Nat’s wedding. Memories of their loving replayed in her mind, making her long for his presence.
“I miss you, David. I wish you were here with me.” Did she really just say that? When had she let herself be that vulnerable to him lately? A prickle of fear poked at her. What if he didn’t feel the same?
“I miss you too.”
His words held her captive.
“I’ll be home tomorrow night,” she said. “I guess that’s not so long.”
“And we have the long weekend because of New Year’s Day.”
“That’s true.”
The network went to commercial, and Paula muted the TV.
They discussed plans for New Year’s Eve before Diane Sawyer appeared on the screen. Paula turned up the volume.
“. . . next story is a mystery that has one family tied in knots.”
“This is it,” David said.
Paula cranked up the volume.
Diane continued. “Three years ago Deb Morgan checked into Chicago General Hospital to deliver a premature baby girl. The child, which they named Faith, was not expected to live, but miraculously pulled through. Only weeks ago, though, the Morgans found out through a series of tests that the child they brought home from the hospital is not the child Deb Morgan gave birth to. The Morgans are here in our studio to talk about this switched-at-birth mystery.”
The screen flashed to Deb and Steve, who looked relatively at ease. “Good morning,” Diane said.
The Morgans returned the greeting.
“Your discovery must have been a very painful one. Can you tell us how you found out that Faith is not the same child you gave birth to?”
Steve fielded the question, answering succinctly, yet thoroughly. He repeated much the same thing he had said in Paula’s interview.
“Given that Faith is not your birth child,” Dianne said, “weren’t you worried about coming forward? What if someone out there today gave birth at Chicago General Hospital during the same time that you did? What if Faith is her birth child?”
Deb clasped Steve’s hand. “We realize we could be opening Pandora’s box here. But if Faith is someone else’s birth child, the other parents deserve to know, just as we deserve to know what happened to ours.”
Diane switched focus. “Has Chicago General Hospital been helping you figure all this out? Figure out what mothers gave birth during the time you were in the hospital?”
Steve leaned forward. “Chicago General has supposedly contacted all the parents who were there at the same time. However, the hospital has not been very open with us, nor have they given us any helpful information. A local reporter in Chicago has been able to recover some information for us, and she’s still helping us discover what happened.”
“That’s you,” David said.
Paula hadn’t expected the Morgans would say anything about her involvement, though she supposed it didn’t matter since her name hadn’t been mentioned.
“How have you explained this to Faith?” Diane asked.
Deb spoke. “We’ve told her in a very simple way that she’s not our birth child. However, we’ve made it clear to her that we will always be her mommy and daddy and that we love her no matter what.”
“What do you hope to accomplish by telling your story?”
“We just want to know the truth,” Steve said. “If our birth child is out there somewhere, we deserve to know about her. ‘The truth will set you free.’ We believe that.”
“Thank you for being with us today.”
The Morgans thanked Diane.
“What an interesting story,” Diane said. “Now we’ll turn it back over to Charlie who has
, shall we say, a rather interesting guest.” The screen switched to Charlie Gibson, who had a chimpanzee sitting in the chair beside him.
Paula flicked off the TV.
“What did you think?” she asked David.
“I thought it went well. The Morgans seem like an average American family, and I think the viewers will be able to relate well to them.”
“I think so too. Now I guess we wait to see what happens next. I still want to get an interview with that nurse, Louise Garner, but her son is saying she’s too ill. And there’s also a possibility that the nurse who died is the one who held all the answers.”
“Are you worried another reporter is going to solve the mystery before you?”
“I’d love to be the one to figure it out. I really think that anchor chair would be mine if I did.”
Silence crowded through the phone lines until David said he had to go. After they hung up, Paula kicked herself for bringing up the anchor position. The job would have her moving to Chicago full-time. What would become of their marriage then?
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
Paula sank into her recliner, punched in Louise’s phone number, and waited for an answer. The other interviews had turned up nothing new, and she was desperate to talk to this last NICU nurse. Paula had gotten pats on the back from most of the newsroom staff, though she sensed a little tenseness when Darrick had congratulated her.
“Hello?” The scratchy voice was female, presumably Louise.
“Mrs. Garner? This is Paula Landin-Cohen from Channel 12 News. How are you today?”
A second’s silence ballooned like rising dough between them until the woman said, “Oh, yes. You’re the one who interviewed that family here locally. I saw the news this morning.”
Paula was relieved to be talking to Louise at last. She hoped the woman’s son was nowhere nearby. “I’ve tried to schedule a time to chat with you about that, but I hear you’re not feeling well.”
“No, I’m not doing so good. I probably shouldn’t be talking to you.
The finality in her voice set off an alarm in Paula. “Please, Mrs. Garner, can I ask you a couple of questions? Over the phone?”
She heard a throaty sigh.
“I don’t think I’m going to have any information that can help you,” the scratchy voice replied.
“That’s OK. If you could just tell me if you remember this particular baby, Faith Morgan, who was born at—”
A male voice interrupted. “Leave her alone. She’s sick, lady!”
The phone disconnected.
Frustration welled up in her, and she sighed hard. If she could just get Louise alone, she thought the lady would cooperate. She didn’t seem too ill to talk over the phone.
For the remainder of the evening, she turned her attention toward tracking down the other women who’d given birth the same week as Deb Morgan. She’d gotten names from the birth section in the newspaper, but tracking them down after three years was time consuming. She had received two phone calls after her story ran from women who’d given birth to babies at the same time as Deb, but both of those babies had been full-term. She was looking for babies who’d been in the NICU at the same time as Faith. Chicago General had hired a team of lawyers and a media rep, and getting any information from them was like trying to run through a brick wall.
Taking out her notes from all the previous interviews, she determined to copy them into her computer. Maybe if she had it all organized, she would see something amiss.
* * *
Linn knocked on her landlord’s door and stuffed her hands into her coat pockets. After nearly two weeks of advertising for a roommate, she was still looking. She wished Mr. Oliani would be flexible, though her interactions with him in the past left her feeling less than hopeful.
The door swung open. The little Italian man was no taller than Linn, with a head of black hair that would make a young man jealous. “Hello, uh . . .”
“Linn. I rent an apartment with Charlotte. Or I did, at least.”
“Right. What’s up?” He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms, as if guarding his apartment from entry.
Linn wished he’d invite her in so she could make a little small talk before she had to ask such a big favor. “I was wondering if we could talk a minute.”
“Shoot.”
So much for hospitality. “You know Charlotte moved out and that I’m looking for a roommate. I wondered if I might have a short extension on my rent.”
There. It was out.
“Sorry, can’t do that.”
“But Mr. Oliani, I’m sure I can find a roommate soon, and I can give you a portion of the rent on the first, just not the whole amount.”
He tipped his chin down. “Look, I don’t like being mean. It’s not my nature. But I got a payment to make myself, see? If I let you be late, I’ll have to let everyone be late, and I just can’t do that, OK? I’m sorry.” He moved to shut the door.
Linn reached out and held the door open. “It’s just this once, I promise. And I won’t tell the other renters.”
“That’s what they all say.” He pushed the door.
She stuck her foot in between the door and the frame. “I don’t have anywhere to go. I don’t have any family or anything, Mr. Oliani.”
He eyed her foot, a scowl forming on his face. “Listen, kid, I feel bad for you. I do. But I gotta look out for myself, see? First of the month. Rent in full.” He looked at her foot again.
She pulled it away and let the door shut in her face. There was no way she could come up with the rent in three days’ time. Not unless she asked for money in advance from Joe. And how could she do that when she’d only been working there just over a week? She didn’t want to risk her job by imposing on him like that.
If only she could find a cheaper place to stay. But she’d already scoured the apartment section in the paper. There wasn’t anything cheaper than what she had now. And a week and a half from now, she’d have to go to part-time at the coffee shop so she could go to school. There might be some kind of government help she was eligible for, but she’d always sworn she would never resort to that. Anyway, it would take weeks to get the ball rolling on that, and she didn’t have weeks.
* * *
The next morning, when Linn got to work, Adam greeted her with a kind smile. She tossed her purse down under the counter and wrapped an apron around her. Outside the streetlights still lit the dark sky.
“You look exhausted.” Adam asked.
“Thanks. Just what every girl longs to hear.” What could she expect when she’d tossed all night trying to figure out what to do?
“Just an observation. You OK?”
Well, I’m about to lose my apartment, it’s the dead of winter, and I have no place to live. Other than that, I’m just peachy.
“Sure.” Linn saw they were low on cups and went to the closet for another stack. She stepped inside the walk-in closet and looked around for the cups, wishing the closet was lit.
“Adam, do you know where the extra cups are?” She saw some old cups, the kind that weren’t insulated, but not the kind she’d been using since she’d started working.
Adam approached. “We’re out. Joe’s going to get some this morning, but he said to use the old ones for now.”
Linn retrieved the packages of cardboard cups from the shelf. “Do we have any sleeves to insulate them?”
The customers wouldn’t be happy if the cups were too hot to hold.
“There should be some in the very back.”
Linn rooted around, moving aside packages of sweetener, stir sticks, and straws. Everything but sleeves.
“Here.” Adam stepped close behind her and leaned forward, almost pinning her to the shelves. He reached over her shoulder.
She could smell the faint scent of his spicy cologne and feel the heat of his skin. She didn’t dare turn her face or she would have been staring into the crook of his neck. Time seemed frozen as he moved aside a box of st
raws and tugged the package of sleeves forward.
“Here they are.” He pulled backward ever so slightly as he dragged the package to the edge of the shelf. Linn turned and faced him.
She could see by his expression that he hadn’t realized how close he was standing until just then. And when he did, his face lost that casual, pleasant, everyday look. The corners of his mouth slacked, and his eyes changed somehow.
Linn forgot to breathe. If her heart wasn’t an involuntary muscle, it would have stopped too. Instead, it thudded against her ribs like a warning alarm.
She wished she could read his eyes, wondered if they would give away any secrets if it weren’t so dark. But there was only a dimness that transformed the closet into a cocoon.
“Sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean to crowd you.” He drew back, but only a little. Their eyes locked, like a missile on a target.
“That’s OK.” It was more than OK. He could crowd her any day, as far as she was concerned.
A jangle of keys at the register caught his attention, and he stepped out of the closet. Linn inhaled to feed her oxygen-deprived body. If she’d been alone, she would have grabbed a piece of cardboard and fanned her warm face.
Instead she joined Adam behind the counter and pumped hazelnut flavoring into a cup while he made espresso several feet away. She mentally reviewed their encounter in the closet, knowing it was only the first of many times she would relive that moment.
The same way she knew she wore her most flattering clothes to work.
The same way she knew Adam’s Christmas gift would hang from her bedside lamp until well past New Year’s.
And the same way she knew her heart would break when he married someone else.
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
“Paula, honey, it’s so good to see you.” Gerdy Feldner, one of Gram’s friends, crossed the church foyer and gave her a big, soft hug.