The Midwife's Confession

Alexandria, I thought, and even though I was doing the craziest thing I’d ever done in my life, I felt proud of myself. Whatever happened next, I’d done something pretty amazing.

Now, though, came the really hard part.

I looked at my face in the rearview mirror. I looked terrible. I did my best to comb my hair, but it was impossible with that stupid comb.

Please be open, I thought as I got out of the car and started walking on the wet sidewalk toward the main street. I walked fast, my backpack over my shoulder, the folder inside it ready to tell the story.

The rectangular sign next to the door read Missing Children’s Bureau, and I could see a light on inside. The door was unlocked and I pushed it open and walked into a small room filled with old-fashioned chairs and a love seat and a bay window overflowing with plants. There was a desk right in the middle of the room, but there was no sign of another human being and I wasn’t sure what to do.

I heard a clinking noise coming from somewhere in the next room and a woman suddenly appeared in the doorway. She had really short gray hair, narrow little black-framed glasses and she was holding a stick of celery in her hand. Her eyebrows shot halfway up her forehead when she saw me.

“You startled me!” she said, then smiled. “May I help you?”

“I’m here to see Anna Knightly,” I said.

“Oh, Ms. Knightly’s with her daughter at Children’s,” she said, sitting down behind the desk.

I felt suddenly dizzy at hearing someone else talk about Anna Knightly like she really, truly existed. It had all started to feel like a fantasy to me. I had to balance myself with my hand on the edge of the desk.

“Are you all right, honey?” the woman asked me, and then her words sunk in. Her daughter. My sister. And wasn’t I at the Missing Children’s Bureau?

“Children’s?” I asked. “Do you mean…isn’t this the Missing Children’s Bureau?”

“Yes.” She looked confused. “Oh. No, no. She’s at Children’s Hospital. Did you—” she looked at me strangely, then checked her computer screen “—you didn’t have an appointment with her, did you? I thought I reached everyone.”

“No, but I need to see her.” A hospital? My sister was sick? “I know something about a missing child,” I said. “I need to talk to her about it.” I didn’t want to tell the woman who I was. What if she thought I was lying? What if she called the police?

“Oh, well, you can give me the information. Ms. Knightly doesn’t generally deal directly with—”

“No, that’s okay. I really need to talk to her. When will she be back?”

“She’s taking some time off to be with her daughter. Would you like some coffee? A soda?”

The woman was worried about me now. I imagined how I looked after a sleepless night, my hair half-combed, my teeth unbrushed. I’d totally forgotten about the toothbrush in my backpack.

“No, thank you. I came a long way to see her, though.” I felt my voice break. “How can I talk to her? Please. I really need to.”

She looked at me like she was trying to decide what to do. “Give me your cell phone number and I can—”

“I don’t have one.” My voice cracked again and I knotted my hands together in front of me. “I forgot it when I left the house. Just tell me where the hospital is.” I could tell right away that was a mistake.

The woman shook her head. “Now, look,” she said. “Ms. Knightly is dealing with a serious private matter and you can’t disturb her, all right?”

I’m a serious private matter, I thought. “Oh, I know,” I said. “I wouldn’t.”

The woman handed me a small notepad. “Write down your name and a way she can reach you.”

“There is no way. I forgot my phone.”

She sighed. “Tell me what this is regarding, honey, so I can help you.”

“It’s private,” I said.

She gave me one of those smiles that said she was getting annoyed. “Well, look.” She leaned back in her chair. “I’ll be here until five. I’m sure I’ll speak with her sometime today. I’ll ask her how you can get in touch with her, then you can stop back late this afternoon and I’ll tell you what she says. But if you could give me some more information, it would be very helpful.”

I thought about those prepaid phones you could buy. I’d never used one, but maybe I could get one of them and give the number to this woman and she could give it to Anna Knightly.

“Can I get your number?” I asked.

“Of course.” She handed me a card from a little tray on her desk and I put it in my pocket.

“Thanks,” I said, and turned to go.

“You’ll come back later?” she asked, but I was already out the door, trying to figure out my next move.

I passed a bank on my way back to my car and used the ATM to get some money. I had forty dollars with me, but I’d need more for gas and maybe a prepaid phone if I could find one. My mind was moving in a different direction, though. When I got to my car, I turned on the GPS and did a search for hospitals. There were a bunch of them, but the only one that had to do with children was called Children’s National Medical Center. Was that it? I liked the words medical center a lot better than I liked the word hospital.

It was in Washington. I plugged the address into the GPS. It was thirty-two minutes away. Yesterday, thirty- two minutes of driving would have sounded impossible to me. Now it sounded almost as easy as taking my next breath. But…the woman had used the word hospital. I couldn’t