by Becky Wade
He connected a call to her, then went to stand at his window in his wrinkled scrubs. Outside, the lights of Atlanta sparkled against a black backdrop of sky. He concentrated on a distant window glowing with yellow light as if, should he try hard enough, he’d be able to see her there.
Leah’s brows glided upward when she saw the identity of the incoming caller. Sebastian was calling her? Sebastian? “Hello?” She sounded woefully breathless.
“Leah, it’s Sebastian. How are you?”
“Very well, thanks. And you?”
“Doing well.”
The deep voice she’d heard a few nights ago in a dream curled around her like a warm silk blanket. “Still wearing the Susan B. Anthony T-shirt?” she asked.
“No. It was so tight I had to use a vacuum attachment to suck it off me when I got home.”
“The idea that ‘we, the people doesn’t mean we, the white male citizens’ has never been a comfortable one for men to wear.”
He laughed. “True.”
“I happen to love my T-shirt. I’m wearing it while grading papers at this very moment, in fact. Eminently comfortable.”
A pause of quiet. Why had he called?
“I wondered if you’d be interested in having dinner with me,” he said.
Her shocked mind took a ride on a Tilt-A-Whirl. “For what purpose?”
“For the purpose of enjoyment.”
What did that mean? She didn’t want to misunderstand. “Are you asking me out on a date?”
“I am.”
A thrill sizzled along her spine.
“Right after I met you,” he said, “I wanted to contact you, but I didn’t know your name. I couldn’t believe my luck when I ran into you at the school’s farmers market. Except, right after we started talking I learned that you were the Leah who Ben’s been interested in for so long.”
“Oh.”
“He’s talked about you since you started teaching at the school. When I discovered who you were to him, my hands were tied.”
“So you encouraged me to date him.”
“It seemed like the right thing to do. For everyone concerned.”
She tried and failed to wrap her mind around the idea that Ben and Sebastian could both be attracted to her.
“Ben saw us talking at the football game,” Sebastian said. “Afterward, he told me it would be fine with him if I called you and asked you out. Are you interested in going out with me?”
“No—that is . . . Yes.” She cleared her throat. “On one hand, I am interested because I’m attracted to you even though, as I told you weeks ago, I truly thought I was missing the attraction gene. On the other hand, no. I’m not interested because I refuse to come between you and Ben.”
“Ben has told me that our friendship will be fine.”
“Maybe, but I don’t see the point in testing that. Or risking the good rapport that you and I share by going on a date. After all, based on my romantic past and your romantic past, the odds of a fulfilling relationship materializing from our date are abysmally low.”
“I don’t expect every date I go on to convert into a fulfilling relationship.”
“No? Then why bother with dating? Isn’t the point of it to find a life partner?” That’s what was logical. To the best of her knowledge, that’s why her friends subjected themselves to dating.
“For me, the point is to have fun.”
“Fun?”
“Yes, Leah. Fun. Go out with me, and I’ll show you what I mean.”
From her spot in the dining room, she stared at the books about New England she’d brought back from her trip and stacked on a living room end table.
She knew Sebastian well enough to know that his friendship with Ben was the most important relationship he had. It wasn’t worth jeopardizing in pursuit of “fun.” “I appreciate the kind offer. But the answer’s no. I’m chagrined because I realize that makes me sound ungrateful. When, in actuality, I’m very grateful for your assistance with my hospital records and the gift you sent Dylan. I owe you.”
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“If you think I’m too honorable to leverage that into convincing you to go out with me, you’re wrong.”
She snickered. See? This was the problem with him. She genuinely liked him. She had a weakness for scoundrels.
“Good night, Doctor.”
“Good night, Professor.”
Click.
Sebastian grinned.
Leah had just said no to him, but instead of disappointment, he experienced a stab of determination. She was unsure of him. But their conversation had only made him more sure of her.
He hadn’t risen to his current position by luck. He’d gotten here through a whole lot of dogged, stubborn effort.
At this point, he needed to respond with patience and strategy. He needed to give her a reason to say yes.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The sunshine on this mid-October Saturday was behaving like a teacher’s pet, making an unabashed bid for Leah’s favor as it slid through the front window of Sugar Maple Kitchen to burnish Tess, Rudy, and their breakfast table.
Tess continued updating Leah on her son. “Trey and Carla have their bags packed and plan to start driving as soon as they hear that Sasha’s in labor so they can arrive in time for their grandchild’s birth.”
“So exciting.”
“I have a photo.”
Leah chewed her waffle, and Rudy poured extra syrup on his pancakes while Tess fussed with her phone. After a moment, she showed Leah the picture of Trey’s very pregnant daughter and her husband.
“Sasha looks both adorable and uncomfortable,” Leah commented.
“She really does look very uncomfortable,” Rudy seconded. “Poor thing!”
“This will be your third great-grand, right?” Leah asked.
“Our fourth,” Rudy answered.
Tess jabbed him with an elbow. “Our third.”
Rudy bobbled his fork. It clattered onto the floor. “Oops.”
“Rudy,” Tess scolded.
He scooped up the errant fork and held it out in front of him like a flower as he approached the coffee bar to ask for a replacement.
Tess gave a long-suffering sigh.
Leah told herself to eat her waffle and her two strips of crisp bacon more slowly. Breakfasts at Sugar Maple Kitchen were meant to be savored.
Tess took a ladylike sip of coffee. “Update me, please, on Dylan’s college applications.”
“He’s decided to pursue a degree in art, but so far he’s only submitted one college application. One!” She could bemoan Dylan to Tess and Rudy because she was certain of their adoration of her brother.
“Even I know that he ought to have a portfolio of applications, so to speak,” Tess said. “Some schools that are aspirational, some practical, some you can be sure he’ll get into.”
“Precisely.”
“Don’t lose heart. Everything is going to turn out beautifully for him.”
“It’s hard to see how, with him so . . . recalcitrant.”
“The main thing is to find a school that suits him, a place where he’ll be appreciated and inspired to learn.”
“I agree, of course. It’s just . . .” She blew a tendril of hair out of her way. “He’s maddening!”
“Leah,” Tess said.
Leah met the older woman’s eyes.
“It will work out. You’re doing an excellent job.” The force of Tess’s will was not to be quibbled with. “It will work out.”
Rudy sank into his chair. “I’m just going to keep this here from now on.” He stuck the new fork behind his ear. He grinned at Leah, and she smiled back. He looked both ridiculous and cute.
“Rudy,” Tess warned.
Cowed, Rudy held the fork properly, then regarded his plate with awe. “I’d love some chocolate sauce to top this off.”
“Absolutely not,” Tess replied. “You’re borderline diabetic.”
Leah spotted
a familiar face leaving the to-go line. “Connor!”
His expression brightened when he saw her. He neared, carrying a drink holder with two coffees in one hand and a bag of pastries in the other.
“Bringing breakfast home to your mom?” Leah asked.
“You guessed it.”
She introduced Connor to Tess and Rudy, who both sized him up with ill-concealed interest.
“Connor grew up here,” she told the older couple, “then went to college in California and stayed on the West Coast for several years.”
“I love Disneyland,” Rudy announced. “So much fun!”
“He started teaching art at the high school,” Leah explained, “the semester after I started there.”
“What brought you back to Misty River?” Tess asked.
“I came back to help my mom after she was diagnosed with ALS.”
“Ah.” Rudy’s demeanor radiated empathy.
“How’s your mom doing?” Tess asked.
“She has some mobility issues, but overall, as well as I could hope.” He asked Tess and Rudy questions about their history with the town. Tess provided answers before Rudy could.
Both Ben’s and Connor’s friendship had greatly enriched her work life. She was closer with Ben because she spent more time with him. But Connor was great, too. His mellow nature immediately put everyone at ease. He was the same age as Leah but more mature than most of the other men she knew in their late twenties. Simply put, he was good, through and through.
Connor’s kind gaze settled on Leah. “I’m glad I ran into you today.”
“Likewise.”
“I’ll see you Monday.” Then, to Tess and Rudy, “Really nice to have met you.” He threaded toward the exit.
“Leah,” Rudy stage-whispered loudly. “Have you been on any dates with that young man?”
“Rudy!” Tess rushed to say. “Of all the inappropriate questions.”
“Sorry.” Impishness sparked behind his glasses. “Well? Have you?”
“No, nor will I. We’re just friends.”
“Friendship can lead to love,” Rudy said.
“Connor’s interested in someone else, a woman he’s liked since middle school.”
“Oh?” Rudy asked. “That’s a long time to like someone.”
“A very long time.” So long that Leah had a hard time imagining it. She’d formed zero attachments to the boys at her middle school. “Connor’s steadfast.”
“Has the woman he likes given him a chance?”
“She’s had a boyfriend for years. They recently broke up, so she’s currently in mourning over that. I’m hopeful that once she comes out of mourning, she’ll give Connor a chance.”
“Have you been on any dates with any young men recently?” Rudy pressed.
“It’s not nice to pry,” Tess said.
“I went on one date back in August, and I was asked out on another date two days ago. However, nothing came of the date in August, and nothing will come of the offer from two days ago.” An image of Sebastian arriving in his office the day of the hospital tour, with disordered dark hair and a tragic past, coalesced in her memory—
She shook herself. She’d always pitied man-crazy women. She had no intention of becoming one of them.
Rudy’s shoulders slumped.
“Sorry to disappoint,” Leah said.
“You’ve never disappointed us.” Tess spoke staunchly. “Not in any way.”
“That’s very true,” Rudy told her. “You’re perfect.”
“I’m not the slightest bit perfect!”
“So perfect,” Rudy insisted, “that I want you to end up with a man who appreciates you.”
“And I want to end up with a PhD that I can appreciate.”
“Of course you do,” Tess said. “Rightly so.”
“May I have that?” Rudy reached for the mini muffin that sat next to fruit slices on Tess’s plate.
Adroitly, she intercepted his hand with a defensive maneuver. “Borderline diabetes,” she reminded him. Resigned sigh. She checked her watch. “Finish up because I need to take you to your water aerobics class at the Y.”
“Do I have to go today?”
“Absolutely. You made a commitment when you signed up for the series of classes—”
“Really, it was you who made me sign up.”
“—and now we have to follow through.”
“I don’t like water aerobics,” Rudy confessed to Leah.
Ten minutes later, the older couple headed out the door.
Leah slipped her laptop from her messenger bag and settled it on the table. Here, away from Dylan’s prying eyes, she could turn her attention to the pursuit of answers regarding the events that had occurred the day of her birth.
Since she’d followed the Brooksides to church almost two weeks ago, she’d been combing through more and more accounts of real life switched-at-birth cases.
The majority occurred because of an accident. Two sets of twins were inadvertently mixed up so that the pairs of brothers grew up thinking they were fraternal twins when they were identical. Hospital staffers lost ID bracelets. Girls born five minutes apart were confused with each other.
However, some switches derived from even more obvious negligence. A drunk nurse set two babies in the same incubator to treat them for jaundice, and then returned them to the wrong mothers. Twins placed in foster care were reunited with their parents, who later learned that only one of the boys returned to them was their biological child.
In at least one case—the most famous of them all—babies had been switched on purpose out of a misguided sense of compassion. A couple had been trying for years to conceive a child. When they finally gave birth to a baby, it was discovered that the girl had a grave heart condition. Allegedly, a doctor instructed employees to give the sick baby to a family that already had five children, and to give the healthy baby to the couple who’d struggled to conceive.
In carefully going back over the paperwork from her mother’s delivery and hospital stay, Leah had taken extra notice of a detail she’d previously skimmed past.
The names of the nurses.
Sebastian had mentioned that he thought it more likely that a nurse had been responsible for the switch than a doctor. Between the labor and delivery room and the neonatal nursery, four nurses had handled her care in the first hour after her birth.
Lois Simpson
Bonnie O’Reilly
Tracy Segura
Joyce Caffarella
The nurses represented a potential source of new information. If she could locate where they were now, she could ask them questions.
She typed Lois Simpson nurse Atlanta, Georgia into Google.
The very first link that popped up read Lois Simpson Obituary—Milledgeville, Georgia | Legacy.com.
A sense of gravity settled over her as she followed the link and read the obituary. Lois had passed away two years before, at the age of eighty-six. Thus, she would have been sixty when Leah was born. The obituary mentioned that she’d worked as a nurse at Emory University Hospital and Magnolia Avenue Hospital for a combined total of thirty years. Lois, a mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother, had been famous for her homemade lemon pound cake and singing in her church’s choir.
Leah would not be able to contact Lois.
She began again with the name Bonnie O’Reilly.
Several hits came up—websites, more obits, images. She scrolled through them, clicked on a few. It didn’t take long to determine that none of these Bonnie O’Reillys were the one she sought. She visited the most prominent social media sites without luck. Returning to Google, she combed through four more pages of results.
She hadn’t found an obituary for a Bonnie O’Reilly who’d been a nurse in Atlanta, which meant Bonnie might still be living. If so, Bonnie was not, apparently, posting about her life for the world to see. Nor could Leah find any articles that mentioned her.
When Leah ran a search for Tracy Segura, she instantly c
ame upon a Facebook profile that listed Magnolia Avenue Hospital under the “Work and Education” heading. A thin woman with strawberry blond hair, Tracy must have been in her early twenties when Leah was born, because she looked no older than fifty now.
Leah shook out her fingers, then composed a Facebook DM to Tracy. She explained that she’d been born at Magnolia Avenue and asked if Tracy would be willing to answer a few questions.
Finally, she entered Joyce Caffarella into the search engine. The third result appeared promising.
Joyce Caffarella—RN—St. Joseph’s | LinkedIn. Joyce’s LinkedIn profile provided a treasure trove of information. Her picture revealed a stout woman with a broad smile. Mousse and hair spray pushed her short platinum hair high. According to her page, she’d started at a pediatrician’s office, accomplished a brief stint as a surgical nurse, then moved to Magnolia Avenue for six years. Since then, she’d been working at a hospital in Peachtree City.
Leah sent her a private message identical to the one she’d sent Tracy.
Just how long, she wondered, should she expect it to take before she heard back?
Somebody gave you a gift,” Dylan called out to her the next day when Leah returned home from a hike.
“Hmm?”
She found him at the dining room table, his attention on his phone, laying waste to a box of Cheez-Its. Near his elbow sat a small gift wrapped in ivory paper and tied with an orange satin bow.
“Where did this come from?”
“Dunno. I saw it sitting on the front door mat when I got home from Braxton’s.”
“No packaging? No address?”
“Just that little card.”
She picked it up. The miniature card affixed to the bow simply read Leah.
Dylan slanted a mocking look at her. “You should probably be really careful with that. You don’t know where it came from, and it might be filled with explosives. Or poison. Explosives and poison are dangerous.”
“Quite right! I encourage you to be cautious of unidentified packages. Also, be wary of underage drinking and speeding and twerking. Never engage in any of that.”
He snorted and returned to his phone and food.
Leah slipped off the bow and raised the lid. Within, a gold necklace glimmered against a backdrop of velvet. A smattering of tiny stars and dots engraved its oval charm.