“What?” Joyce squawked. “No kidding?”
“No kidding.”
“I’ve heard switched-at-birth stories, of course, but that type of a mistake is actually really, really uncommon. It’s blowing my mind to think that this happened to you during one of my shifts.”
“It’s true that cases like mine are extremely rare, but maybe not quite as rare as we thought a few years ago. Then, no one could easily test their DNA, so an unknown number of cases likely went undiscovered. Now we can inexpensively submit our DNA to a lab. I’ve watched interviews of two other people who discovered they were switched at birth the same way that I did.”
“Jiminy Cricket!” Joyce made awhoeeesound. “You said you were born twenty-eight years ago?”
“Yes, I turned twenty-eight this past February. By chance, do you remember anything about me? Or my parents, Erica and Todd Montgomery? Or my biological mother and father, Trina and Jonathan Brookside?”
“I’m sorry, hon. I don’t. I’ve been working in labor and delivery now for almost forty years. I’ve cared for so many mothers and babies. So many.”
“I understand.” The chance that one of the nurses would remember her or her parents had been a long shot. “I was switched with a baby named Sophie.” She explained the facts of her birth and Sophie’s birth.
“How close together were you born?”
“Eighteen minutes.”
Joyce gave anotherwhoeee. “Sophie would have been brought to the nursery, too. And neither mother would have had a chance to get a good look at the face of her child.”
“Do you think it’s most likely that the switch occurred in the nursery?”
“Yep, I do.”
“According to the hospital records, Lois Simpson, Bonnie O’Reilly, and Tracy Segura were working the same shift that you were. Do you remember those women?”
“Lois Simpson! Now, that’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time. A long, long time. She and Bonnie were of a different generation, my parents’ generation. Lois was sweet and motherly. I remember that we celebrated her retirement with a cake decorated to look like an RV because she and her husband planned to travel around in one. Do you know what happened to her?”
“She passed away two years ago, at the age of eighty-six.”
“I hope she and her husband burned up the highways in their RV.”
“What about Bonnie O’Reilly?”
“Bonnie I knew better. Our shifts aligned often during my six years at Magnolia Avenue. Bonnie’s like one of those stern RNs in movies. Strict, but with a heart of gold.”
Outside, the trees of Leah’s backyard preened with autumn color. “Approximately how old would she have been at the time of my birth?”
“Fifty-ish, I’d say.”
“Do you remember anything else about her?”
“She was single. Oh, and she had at least one ... maybe two children. That’s about all I recall.”
“And Tracy? Any memories of her?”
“Tracy was young. Always rubbed me the wrong way. She was uptight and pessimistic and since I’m the opposite of those things, I have a hard time with people like that. We worked together for a couple of years before she was let go.”
“Why was she let go?”
“Bad attitude. With supervisors and patients alike.”
“I’m hoping to chat with Bonnie and Tracy, too. Do you have contact details for either of them, by chance?”
“Hmm. When I moved south and started at a different hospital, I lost touch with both of them, but I’ll dig around for you. Back in the day, I bent over backward to keep my address book and my Christmas card list up-to-date. I might have contact details for them somewhere.”
“Thanks for checking for me. I appreciate it.”
