That was when the silver cross slipped from his collar.
I stared at it.
The familiar shape.
The delicate chain.
And that unmistakable little scratch.
My eyes filled with tears.
« Doctor, » I whispered, « where did you get that necklace? »
He looked puzzled.
« Why do you ask? »
« Because thirty-one years ago, I placed that exact cross inside my newborn son’s blanket. »
The doctor’s expression changed.
He slowly closed the chart.
Then he reached for the necklace and examined it.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Finally, he pulled a chair close to my bed.
His voice was barely above a whisper.
« Ma’am, before I answer, there’s something I need to ask you. »
I gripped the hospital blanket.
« What is it? »
He looked directly into my eyes.
« Did your parents ever tell you what actually happened to your son after you signed those papers? »
The full story continues in the first comment.
