Leah’s role as Dylan’s older sister had sculpted her character. She’d never forget how protective she’d felt toward her brother when her parents were fighting, so she knew what it was to harbor anxiety not just for your own well-being but, much harder to bear, for the well-being of a sibling.
“Have things improved at home?” Leah asked.
“No.”
Claire’s answer supported Leah’s own suspicions. She’d been keeping an eye on the girl, who seemed even jumpier and wearier lately. “Is your dad physically abusive toward your mom?”
Claire looked down at her knees, where she clasped her math binder and textbook with both hands.
“Please know,” Leah said, “that you can tell me the truth. My shoulders are strong enough to carry it.”
“No, he hasn’t been physically abusive, but I’m worried he’ll get that way soon.”
“Because?”
“Well . . . he’s always had a temper, but it’s gotten worse the last few months. He’s mad a lot, so then Mom gets mad, too. He’s been throwing things, breaking things.”
“Any idea what caused this change?”
“I think things have been bad for him at work.”
“I’m really sorry, Claire.”
“It’s okay.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“I don’t think there’s anything anyone can do.”
“I know you’ve continued to meet with Ms. Williams.” Leah had been in communication with the school counselor about Claire. “Has that been helpful?”
Claire shrugged. “Sort of.”
“Do you have reservations about talking with her?”
“She’s nice ... for sure. I just don’t know her well, so it feels really weird to tell her stuff.”
Worry circled within Leah because her intuition was telling her that Claire needed to be confiding in trustworthy adults. “How about you add my number to your contacts? If you ever need to call me—to come and get you or for any other reason—please do.” Though she was sixteen, Claire didn’t yet have her driver’s license.
“Thank you, Ms. Montgomery.”
Later that day, en route to her car after work, Leah checked her phone and saw that an unfamiliar number had left a voice mail for her. She retrieved it and listened as she walked to a loud and husky female voice say, “This is Joyce Caffarella calling. I just now saw that you sent me a message a while back on LinkedIn saying that you were born at Magnolia Avenue Hospital during the years when I worked there.”
Leah’s forward movement came to a swift stop.
“Here’s hoping you weren’t one of the babies that I dropped on their heads.” Scratchy laughter burst from Joyce. “Just kidding. I didn’t drop any on their heads. Well, not many anyway.” She chuckled. “You left your phone number and invited me to call so I’m doing just that. Sorry I missed you. Feel free to call me back at this number.”
One of the nurses who’d cared for her as a newborn had called her!
The other two nurses, Bonnie and Tracy, had remained elusive. Leah’s continued attempts to locate Bonnie online had failed. Tracy hadn’t responded to her Facebook message.
Joyce Caffarella. Joyce was the one with the solid frame and the spiky platinum hair. Had she been fresh out of nursing school the year she’d started the first job she’d listed on LinkedIn, her age would now be hovering just above sixty.
Leah slung the messenger bag filled with work that needed grading into her Honda, then headed home. Dylan was still at practice, which meant she could place a return call in private.
Once she’d dumped her things on the kitchen counter, she took a few moments to gather herself and whisper a prayer. Gazing out the sliding doors that led to her back patio, she connected a call to Joyce.
Joyce answered almost instantly. Leah introduced herself and spent a few moments exchanging pleasantries with the outgoing older woman. There was no easy way to segue fromthanks for taking the time to return my calltoI was switched at birth on your watch, but Leah managed to convey the basics of her story.
