Chapter 2 - The Nurse Who Remembered
Nora opened the door only after checking through the side window.
The woman standing on the porch appeared to be in her late sixties.
She was thin, tired, and frightened enough that she kept looking toward the street.
“Come inside.”
Evelyn hesitated.
“Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
“That isn’t good.”
Nora’s patience vanished.
“You showed up at midnight and told me you were paid to lie about my dead baby.”
Evelyn flinched.
“Then start talking.”
Inside, Nora locked the deadbolt.
Evelyn refused coffee.
She refused water.
She would not take off her coat.
Instead, she placed a yellowed envelope on the kitchen table.
Nora stared at it.
“What is that?”
“Something I should have given you six years ago.”
Nora reached for it.
Evelyn stopped her.
“Before you open it, you need to understand something.”
“What?”
“Your daughter wasn’t stillborn.”
The room became silent.
Nora had imagined hearing those words ever since the supermarket.
She had believed she was prepared.
She wasn’t.
“She was alive?”
Evelyn looked down.
“Yes.”
Nora’s knees weakened.
She pulled out a chair.
“How alive?”
Evelyn’s eyes filled.
“She cried.”
Nora turned her face away.
For six years, the hospital had told her there had never been a cry.
No breath.
No heartbeat.
No chance.
“She cried?”
“Loudly.”
Nora pressed both hands to her mouth.
Evelyn continued.
“She was small, but healthy.”
“Did you hold her?”
“I helped clean her.”
“Did she have dark hair?”
“Yes.”
Nora closed her eyes.
A tear slipped down her cheek.
“What happened?”
Evelyn looked toward the dark window.
“Dr. Elias Mercer ordered everyone out of the delivery room except me and another nurse.”
Nora remembered Mercer.
Silver hair.
Calm voice.
Expensive watch.
He had been the physician who told her the baby died.
“He said you had suffered complications and needed sedation.”
“I remember.”
“You were hemorrhaging.”
Nora nodded.
Fragments returned.
Bright lights.
Daniel shouting.
Margaret praying.
A mask lowered over Nora’s face.
“Then?”
“Your baby was moved.”
“To the NICU?”
“No.”
Nora looked at her.
“Where?”
“A private recovery room on the old fourth floor.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t know then.”
Evelyn rubbed her hands together.
“About forty minutes later, Margaret Bennett arrived.”
Nora felt cold.
“With Daniel?”
“No.”
“Who was with her?”
“A lawyer.”
“What lawyer?”
“I never got his name.”
Evelyn’s gaze returned to the envelope.
“They had papers.”
“What kind of papers?”
“Temporary guardianship forms.”
Nora stared at her.
“I never signed anything.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because I watched Margaret forge your signature.”
Nora pushed away from the table.
The chair scraped loudly across the floor.
Evelyn flinched again.
“You watched her?”
“I was afraid.”
“You watched someone steal my newborn daughter and you were afraid?”
“I had two children.”
“So did I!”
Evelyn’s face crumpled.
“I know.”
Nora turned away.
Anger burned through her so fiercely she could barely think.
Six years.
Birthday cakes she never bought.
First steps she never saw.
Fevers she never stayed awake through.
Six Christmas mornings.
Six years of a little girl believing someone else was her mother.
Nora turned back.
“Why are you here now?”
“Because Margaret saw you.”
“In the supermarket?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
Evelyn swallowed.
“She called me.”
Nora stared.
“Today?”
“At six forty.”
“What did she say?”
“She asked whether I had ever spoken to you.”
“And?”
“I said no.”
Evelyn’s fingers shook.
“Then she told me it was time to take a vacation.”
Nora understood immediately.
“You think she was threatening you.”
“I know she was.”
Nora picked up the envelope.
Inside was a photocopy of a hospital transfer form.
Most of the ink had faded.
But the date was unmistakable.
Six years earlier.
The night Lily was born.
Under PATIENT TRANSFER, Nora saw:
BABY GIRL BENNETT.
DESTINATION:
ROSEWOOD FAMILY CENTER.
Nora read the name twice.
“What is Rosewood?”
Evelyn looked at her.
“It was supposed to be a private maternity home.”
“Supposed to be?”
“It closed five years ago.”
“Why?”
Evelyn’s face hardened.
“Because one of the nurses started asking why so many babies were arriving without mothers.”
Nora felt the air leave her lungs.
“How many?”
Evelyn said nothing.
“How many babies?”
“I don’t know.”
A sudden flash illuminated the front window.
Headlights.
Evelyn jerked upright.
A dark SUV had stopped across the street.
Its lights went out.
May you like
Evelyn whispered:
“They found me.”
