The Midwife's Confession

“I… Probably with my boyfriend in Chapel Hill. My ex-boyfriend.”

“You need to call her right away and tell her where you are,” I said.

“But she doesn’t even know about this.” She looked a little panicky. “She doesn’t know I’m not her daughter.”

“You still need to let her know where you are,” I said.

The girl licked her lips. “All right,” she said, though she made no move for her phone.

“Listen to me,” I said. “This is extraordinarily strange in so many ways. I don’t know you and you don’t know me, and in a…if things were different, we would slowly get to know each other and find out if you’re really my daughter, but right now, my daughter—” I almost said my real daughter “—Haley is very ill. She has leukemia. She’s a wonderful girl and she needs a bone marrow transplant to give her a chance to live. It’s her only chance. Only certain people can be donors and we haven’t been able to find a match for her.” My voice started to break; sometimes the emotion still caught me by surprise. “It’s possible, just possible that a sister might be a match.” I felt cruel. Whoever this girl in front of me was she had not asked for this. She hadn’t bargained for it. But I didn’t care. I wanted her tested. I needed to see if maybe, by some wild chance, she could be a match, whether she was Haley’s sister or not.

Grace swallowed and I could see how scared she was. What I was doing felt wrong and yet I couldn’t help myself. Haley was slowly dying.

“I’d like you to meet Haley, if you’re both willing,” I said. “Then you can decide if you want to be tested to see if you’re a match. It’s just a cheek swab. Doesn’t hurt at all. Only if you want. Your mother would have to give permission.” I sat back with a long sigh. The girl’s hands were folded together on her lap in a tense knot. “I don’t know what’s going on here, Grace,” I said, “but sometimes things happen for a reason and they’re very hard for us to explain.”

She lifted her chin at those words and I saw that they had meaning for her. “You believe that, don’t you?” I said softly. “That things happen for a reason?”

She nodded. “I want to believe it,” she said, though her eyes, which were nothing like Haley’s, gave away her doubt. But her words, so tender and heartfelt, touched me and I softened toward her.

“I don’t believe you’re my daughter,” I said. “It doesn’t make sense. My newborn baby had hair that was darker than yours, just like Haley’s. Like her father’s. I bet your hair was very light when you were born.”

“Brownish. It’s really more brown than this.” She touched her long, thick hair. “I get highlights put in it.”

“I doubt it’s as dark as my daughter’s would be.” I stood. “Do you need something to eat or drink?” I asked.

She shook her head. Hugged her arms. “I couldn’t,” she said.

“You’re nervous?”

“I hate hospitals.”

I cocked my head at her. “You’re brave to come here, then,” I said. “Let me talk to Haley first. You stay right here.” I worried that I’d frightened her, that she might take off. I wished I had a long rope and could tether myself to her while I spoke to Haley. “Please promise me you’ll stay right here,” I said. “And call your mother to tell her where you are and what’s going on. But please don’t leave. You don’t have to do the bone marrow thing. I just —”

“I won’t leave,” she said. “I came all this way. I won’t leave.”

“Where’d you go?” Haley asked when I walked back into her room.

“Well, Haley—” I stood at the end of her bed, leaning on the footboard “—something wild just happened.”

“You’re shaking.”

I was. I was making her whole bed rattle. I straightened up and smiled at her. “Did you notice the girl who was in the hallway a minute before I left your room?”

She shook her head.

“Well, there was a girl there. A teenager. And she claims to be Lily.”

Haley’s eyes widened. “Our Lily?”

“That’s what she says.”

Her mouth fell open. “Our Lily?” she asked again, this time in a whisper.

“I don’t know if she is or not, honey.” I still wouldn’t let myself feel hope. “I don’t know what to make of it,” I said. “She showed me a letter from a midwife…. Do you know what a midwife is?”

Haley shook her head.

“A woman who delivers babies. This one—the one who wrote the letter—delivered babies at home apparently. Anyway, I need to talk fast because I left the girl out—”

“Hurry, then!” She glanced toward the hallway. “Is she out there?”

“She’s in a little room down the hall.” At least, I hoped that’s where she was. I knew I’d scared her in half a dozen different ways.

I told Haley what I could remember from the letter and she stared at me, openmouthed.

“Holy shit,” she said.

“Yes,” I agreed. “Holy shit. The dates match up to when Lily disappeared, and this girl thinks she’s Lily. She drove up here from Wilmington because she thinks I’m her mother.”

“Is it her?” Haley asked.