Sage’s Story

       You will remember that when we first met Lara – or rather when we first learned that she had decided to have the child – we felt that her child would be the one. And when you cast the girl’s horoscope, after she was born – that confirmed our premonitions. The other signs too – they all pointed to her: the birth weight, the fact that she was dark-haired, not a beauty, and with that particular mark on her left shoulder. And yet, that mark! It was not really on her left shoulder, was it? Truly, it was more on her neck. I remember when we first saw it, when she was a week old, in this very garden. And we looked at each other and wondered about that mark.  And yet, how could this child not be the one we were waiting for? How could one little detail like the precise position of a mark convince us that we had not found the one? So we told ourselves that we were right. We knew where the child was born, we had the time of birth, the other signs – we must be right. But Beatrice, I know now that we did not have the correct time of birth. 

       Beatrice interrupted.  But the birth registration! The certificate!  We checked and rechecked! The hospital records! Surely –

       Sage shook his head.  This is what I learned:  Five babies were born within roughly one half-hour at County Hospital that night. It was unprecedented:  even now there are nurses, midwives and doctors who still speak of that night like comrades who have gone through battle together. For all concerned, that night was an extraordinary night!

       One of the babies was a boy; his mother gave birth to him at 10:30 after a long and difficult labor.  Another woman had twins; a fairly straight-forward labor and delivery amazingly enough, considering the fact that the babies were both large:  they were born at 11:46, a boy and a girl. And then there was Katie, who was – according to the records -- born at 12:00 midnight. This is what was written on her birth registration, but in fact the hospital did not know exactly when the birth occurred.

       You see, the hospital was ‘short-staffed’ as they call it, on that particular night, for various reasons. The boy who was born was not due for another month, and Lara, of course, was not even registered at the hospital – oh, how much trouble could have been saved if she had managed to get to you in time, Beatrice! The twins, too, had not been expected to come quite so soon, so the obstetrics staff was simply not prepared for what came their way that night. And to make matters worse, Katie came far more quickly than might have been expected:   Lara was admitted to the hospital at 10:39 and Katie was, after all, her first baby. They put her into a room by herself and got back to the women who really needed them. It seems that a student nurse went in at 11:53 and came out in a great hurry, calling for help. But the others were all busy elsewhere and could not be called away. The student nurse rushed off to find help; she ran back to Lara, intending  to stay with her until a more experienced person arrived. But before she could reach her, she heard someone screaming to her from an elevator:  a young woman was there, all by herself, and she was in the very final stages of labor. She was in a dreadful condition, sprawled on the elevator floor in pain, bathed in sweat, tearing at her clothes. The nurse managed to get her out of the elevator and at 12:00 midnight exactly, this woman gave birth to a 7½-pound baby girl on the floor of the hospital’s obstetrics department. Sage paused as Katie’s mother gasped in astonishment, and then he continued.

       She was not twenty feet away from Lara’s room when she gave birth. The student nurse who managed to deliver the baby girl could hear Lara calling out, but was, of course, fully occupied. She had to make a choice, and she chose the woman in the elevator. Apparently the mother was both younger than Lara and very upset. She had spent some minutes calling out in vain for help!

     Katie’s mother frowned. Surely she could have gone to the emergency room?   

     Sage shook his head. At 11:40 that night, the emergency room received three critically-injured teenagers from a head-on collision. As they were already understaffed, there was no one in the reception area when the woman came in. Somehow she managed to get herself into an elevator and press the correct button for the obstetrics floor.

       Beatrice passed her hand over her eyes. And the time? The actual time of birth – for the woman in the elevator. This was definitely at 12:00 midnight? This is certain?

       Yes. There was no question about this. As the baby emerged, the chiming clock at the nursing station immediately began to strike twelve; I have it on good authority from the nurse herself. And yes, the clock in the nurse’s station is absolutely accurate.

       After the baby was born, the nurse rushed into Lara’s room and found that Lara’s baby too had been born. But by this time it was a minute or two after 12:00. Or perhaps even later – Lara had passed out, it appears. There was a clock in the room, just over the bed, but one cannot expect a woman who is giving birth to look to see what time her baby is born. She only remembered that it must have been around midnight. And so ‘12:00 midnight’ was entered on the birth registration. What else could they do? It was close enough for them. And yet, as you know, it was not close enough for us.

       Sage paused to refresh himself with lettuce, then continued:

       I know, Beatrice, that you will want to know the name of the mother. But I am afraid that I do not have good news:  the name she gave the hospital was not her real name. The hospital staff greatly doubted at the time that she was being truthful – it seemed that she would vary the stories she told ever so slightly, so that no two answers she gave to any question – or to any staff member – were ever consistent. She was very young,  very suspicious of everyone and everything. She told them that her name was Tara Anne Summers, that she was 20 years of age; she gave them a fictitious address. She had no identification and no money. Accordingly, a member of the hospital staff who helps those in situations like this – I forget what they call such a person…a socializer? No…

       Beatrice supplied the term:  Social worker.

       Yes, A social worker was summoned, but the young woman would not tell her anything about where she was from, what her real name was, who her legal guardians might be. On the fourth day, she took her baby and left the hospital, against medical advice. They never saw her again.

       One of the social workers tried to find her later; the address the girl had given did not exist, but the woman persevered. She checked every ‘Summers’ listed in the directory; there were four entries. One of the ‘Summers’ she called said that there was indeed a Tara Anne Summers residing there, but when she went to visit the girl’s family, she found that the young lady in question was not the young mother she was looking for, but a seventeen-year old debutante, a very poised, beautifully-groomed, self-possessed young person, according to the social worker, whose family were quite indignant when they learned that an apparently indigent mother had used her name. Oddly enough, the address that the woman had given, though it did not exist, was across the street from the young debutante’s home. Which made the social worker wonder whether the young mother actually knew the debutante and had used her name and what she thought was the girl’s address on purpose.  She pursued this line for a short time, but was not able to find the mother and finally gave up. She was upset that she could not trace the mother; she had diabetes and was not in good physical condition when she left the hospital. They were worried about her. But the baby girl was, by all accounts, healthy and thriving.

       Beatrice stroked Sage’s shell. And what of the mark? Was any mention made of that? Sometimes hospitals list birthmarks, distinguishing features, that sort of thing. Were you able to find any record of a mark on the left shoulder of the baby?

       You can be sure that I did inquire. But there was no record. The baby was described as a healthy female infant, of mixed racial background. The baby’s mother was described as ‘white;’ under the category for ‘race of child’ the entry was ‘black.’

       In the dark, warm garden, the rich smell of the earth wafted up to them through the hot night air.

       Beatrice rose.  We have much to discuss when I come home, Sage. You and I will be very busy for some time to come, it seems, but we must find this child! Goodbye for now my friend, and welcome home.

       Beatrice walked lightly toward the meeting circle, breathing in the delicious night air. She felt a curious sense of hope, of relief, of cautious joy. She must explain everything that Sage told her to the society; she must secure their understanding and cooperation. But she felt sure they would find the girl. They had to.