Nathan dined on a simple evening meal of chicken and dumplings. He praised Flora for her cooking of it, and it was a more than adequate meal. In fact, he might have enjoyed it a great deal if not for the sense that it could not replace the anticipated roast duck. It simply was not what he’d been set to receive.
After dinner, Flora retired to her room. She had a TV set in her bedroom, the only one in the house. Nathan despised the drone of television dialogue as background to his life.
It wasn’t unusual for Flora to disappear right after dinner, but on this night Nathan was more than usually aware of it.
He sat on his bed across the hall, with his door open. Her bedroom door was closed, and as far as Nathan could hear, her TV had not been turned on yet. She must have been undressing for bed. Now and then he could see the vague shadow of feet cross the gap underneath her door. One of her floorboards tended to squeak when she crossed it, and she made no attempt to avoid it, as Nathan would have done.
For the first time in a very long time, years, Nathan felt tempted to knock on her door. Request that they spend a bit of time together. They could talk, or even play a game of cards. But before he could rise, he remembered her dismissive tone earlier in the day. No, the fact that he was feeling empty, he realized, did not mean in any way that Flora could, or would, help him fill that void.
He rose, and walked to the kitchen phone. He called directory assistance, and asked for the number of the hospital. He dialed, and got what sounded like a switchboard.
“Patient information, please,” he said.
“What is the name of the patient?” a cool woman’s voice responded.
That disarmed him.
“Well. He doesn’t have a name,” Nathan said. “I wanted to learn the condition of an abandoned newborn I found this morning in the woods. I brought him to your hospital. John Doe is his name, I suppose. At the moment.”
“Are you family?”
“I’m the man who found him in the woods. What family would he have, then?”
“Then you’re not blood family.”
“No. I’m not.”
“Then I’m afraid I can’t release any information to you.”
“I see,” Nathan said. “Will you please connect me with your emergency room?”
A pause, followed by what sounded like a sigh.
“Hold on. I’ll connect you.”
A few seconds of silence. Nathan felt his molars pressing too tightly together along one side.
Then a click, and a brusque male voice on the line.
“ER.”
“Oh. Yes. I’m sorry to bother you,” Nathan said, wondering how he had started off on such disadvantaged footing. “But I’m the man who brought in that baby this morning, and I was hoping to talk to the doctor who—”
“This is Dr. Battaglia,” the voice said.
Nathan felt more than surprised. He had expected to leave a message, which would not be returned until morning. “My goodness, you work long shifts down there.”
“Ho,” the doctor said. “You have no idea.”
“I tried to get some word on his condition without bothering you,” Nathan said. “But they wouldn’t tell me anything. They said I’m not blood family.”
“Yeah, they’re like that. Swimming in their rules. Now, me, I guess I figure you’re as close to family as that little beggar has got. So I’ll tell you. He’s still with us. Call back in the morning and talk to Dr. Wilburn. I’ll tell him you’ll be calling. First twenty-four hours will be the most crucial. If the kid is still alive in the morning … mind you, it’s no guarantee. There are no guarantees in this business. But if he’s still kicking when you call in the morning, that’ll be a very good sign.”
? ? ?
Nathan closed his door and lay, fully dressed, on the bed. Tomorrow he had a morning appointment with the recently widowed Mrs. MacElroy. Helping her work out the financial details of her sad new life. That was inconvenient timing, but as soon as that meeting was over, he could begin to make his calls. Find out if the child had a social worker yet. Learn whom he should talk to, and how to proceed.
Then he chided himself for thinking of his meeting with the widow MacElroy as inconvenient. After all, her inconvenience was certainly greater than his. It wasn’t like him to think so much of his own needs or place them above those of others.
He would have to watch that.
He listened to the occasional creak of Flora’s squeaky board, and noticed it sounded lonely. Or maybe that was just him.