Sara gave the woman a roll of gauze, boiled cloth pads, and a jar of ointment. “Change her dressings every twelve hours. There’s no sign of infection, but if anything starts to look worse, or she gets a fever, send for me right away.”
Sister Peg was frowning at the objects in her hand. Then, brightening a little, she looked up. “I meant to thank you for the other night. It was nice to get out. I should do it more often.”
“Peter was happy to have you there.”
“Caleb has grown so much. Kate, too. Sometimes it’s easy to forget how lucky we are. Then you see something like this …” She let the thought pass. “I’d better get back to the children. Where would they be without mean old Sister Peg?”
“It’s a good act, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
“Does it show? I’m really just an old softie at heart.”
She walked Sara out. At the doorway, Sara paused. “Let me ask you something. In the course of a year, say, how many children get adopted?”
“In a year?” The woman seemed startled by the question. “Zero.”
“None at all?”
“It happens, but very rarely. And it’s never the older children, if that’s what you’re asking. Sometimes a baby will be left here and a relative will come and claim it within a few days. But once a child has been here a while, the odds are good they’ll stay.”
“I didn’t know.”
Her eyes searched Sara’s face. “The two of us aren’t so very different, you know. Ten times a day our jobs give us good reason to cry. And yet we can’t. We wouldn’t be any use to anyone if we did.”
It was true; but it didn’t make Sara’s heart feel any less heavy. “Thank you, Sister.”
She headed for the hospital. Her mood was bleak. As she entered the building, Wendy urgently waved her over to the desk.
“There’s somebody waiting for you.”
“A patient?”
The woman looked around to make sure she wasn’t overheard. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “He says he’s from the census office.”
Uh-oh, thought Sara. That was fast. “Where is he?”
“I told him to wait, but he went to look for you on the ward. Jenny’s with him.”
“You let Jenny talk to him? Are you nuts?”
“There wasn’t anything I could do! She was standing right there when he asked for you!” Wendy lowered her voice again. “It’s about that woman with the abruption, isn’t it?”
“Let’s hope not.”
At the door to the ward, Sara took a clean smock from the shelf. Two things worked in her favor. The first was her rank. She was a doctor, and although she didn’t like to do it, she could throw her weight around if she had to. A certain peremptory tone; veiled or not-so-veiled references to unnamed persons of substantial influence; the mantle of the higher calling, busy day, lives to save: Sara had learned the tricks. Second, she hadn’t done anything illegal. Failing to file the proper paperwork was not a crime—more like an error. She was safe, more or less, but this wouldn’t help Carlos or his family. Once the fraud was discovered, Grace would be taken away.
She stepped into the ward. Jenny was standing with a man who possessed the unmistakable look of a bureaucrat: soft, balding, and flat-footed, with pasty skin that rarely saw sunshine. Jenny’s glance met hers with a look of barely concealed panic: Help!
“Sara,” she began, “this is—”
She didn’t let the girl finish. “Jenny, could you please check the laundry for blankets? I think we’re running low.”
“We are?”
“Now, please.”
She scurried away.
“I’m Dr. Wilson,” Sara said to the man. “What is this about?”
The man cleared his throat. He seemed a little nervous. Good. “There was a woman who delivered a girl here four nights ago.” He fumbled through the papers he was holding. “Sally Jiménez ? I believe you were the doctor on duty.”
“And you are?”
“Joe English. I’m from the census office.”
“I have a lot of patients, Mr. English.” She pretended to think. “Oh, yes, I remember. A healthy girl. Is there an issue?”
“No birthright certificate was filed with the census form. The woman has two sons.”
“I’m sure I took care of it. You’ll have to check again.”
“I spent all yesterday looking for it. It definitely wasn’t sent to my office.”
“Your office never makes mistakes? Loses paperwork?”
“We’re very thorough, Dr. Wilson. According to the nurse at the desk, Mrs. Jiménez was released three days ago. We always talk to the family first, but they don’t seem to be home. Her husband hasn’t been to work since the birth.”
Dumb move, Carlos, Sara thought. “I can’t be responsible for people once they leave here.”
“But you are responsible for filing the proper documentation. Without a valid birthright, I’m going to have to move her case up the line.”
“Well, I’m sure there was one. You’re mistaken. Is that all? I’m very busy here.”
He regarded her for an uncomfortably long moment. “For now, Dr. Wilson.”