A baby.
There was definitely a baby.
Caleb returned to his truck and drove another fifteen minutes.
Then he turned beneath an arch reading:
Silverleaf Medical Center
The name was fictional, chosen decades earlier by the private trust that had built the hospital.
I parked near the far end of the lot.
Caleb entered through a side door carrying the pharmacy bag and stuffed rabbit.
I remained in my car.
Hospitals offered a hundred innocent explanations.
A coworker’s child could be ill.
A relative I did not know might be admitted.
He could be delivering something for someone.
But none of those explanations answered Lena’s message.
I waited five minutes.
Then I went inside.
The reception desk directed visitors toward the main elevators.
I did not know which floor Caleb had taken.
Then I saw the stuffed rabbit’s yellow ribbon through the closing doors of another elevator.
I hurried forward.
“Hold it!”
A nurse placed her hand between the doors.
Caleb had his back to me.
He was speaking to a young woman in blue scrubs.
I stopped before entering.
The doors closed.
Above them, the number four illuminated.
I took the next elevator.
The fourth floor was quieter than the others.
Soft lights lined the hallway.
Instead of loud announcements, there was only the occasional beep of equipment and the squeak of rubber soles.
A sign near the nurses’ station read:
INFANT CARE AND FAMILY SUPPORT
My stomach turned.
I walked slowly along the corridor.
Through one glass panel, I saw a woman feeding a premature baby through a tiny bottle.
Through another, a nurse adjusted wires near an incubator.
Then I found Caleb.
He sat in a rocking chair beside a window.
A newborn baby rested against his chest.
She was so small that one of his hands covered nearly her entire back.
The young woman from the elevator stood beside him.
She touched his shoulder.
Caleb looked up at her and smiled.
Not the polite smile he used with coworkers.
Something softer.
Something private.
My knees weakened.
The baby made a tiny movement beneath the blanket.
Caleb lowered his face and whispered to her.
I could not hear the words.
The woman said something that made him laugh.
Then she handed him the stuffed rabbit.
My husband placed it beside the baby.
I backed away from the window.
I had spent the drive preparing myself for another woman.
I had not prepared for another child.
I turned toward the elevators.
My vision blurred.
Before I reached them, someone called my name.
“Natalie?”
I stopped.
Caleb stood in the hallway.
His face had gone completely pale.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
The woman remained near the room.
The baby was now lying inside a clear hospital bassinet.
“You followed me,” Caleb said.
It was not an accusation.
He sounded frightened.
“Who is she?”
He looked toward the infant.
