“Do you remember the mark?”
The woman looked between us.
“Yes.”
My heartbeat seemed to stop.
“Where?”
“Left side. Close to the collarbone.”
Nobody spoke.
I looked at Denise.
“Did our baby leave this room?”
“For routine assessment.”
“Where?”
“Down the hall.”
Denise’s expression shifted.
“Were there other newborns there?”
The delivery nurse hesitated.
“One other, I think.”
Denise turned sharply.
“You think?”
“It was busy. I need to check the log.”
Denise stepped into the hallway.
Through the partly open door, I heard her say:
“Nobody moves either infant until we verify everything.”
Either infant.
Caleb heard it too.
He slowly sat beside me.
“There’s another baby.”
I couldn’t answer.
Ten minutes later, Denise returned with a hospital administrator.
“There was another baby girl in the assessment area,” she explained. “She was born shortly after your daughter.”
“Where is she?” Caleb asked.
“With her parents.”
“Do they know?”
“We are speaking with them now.”
I looked at the infant sleeping against my chest.
“And the identification bands?”
“The band on this baby matches your records.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
Denise paused.
“No. It doesn’t.”
The administrator began explaining transfer logs and verification procedures, but I barely heard him.
“Bring the other parents here.”
“We need their consent before—”
The door opened.
A woman wearing a hospital gown sat in a wheelchair while her husband stood behind her holding another bundled baby.
“I told you something was wrong,” she said to him.
He looked shaken.
“I know.”
Denise approached them.
“Marissa, this is the other family I mentioned.”
Marissa looked directly at me.
Then at the baby in my arms.
Her eyes filled with tears.
“What did you notice?” I asked.
She swallowed.
“The hat.”
Caleb frowned.
“What hat?”
“My mother knitted a pink cap for our daughter. The nurses put it on her right after she was born. When they brought her back, she was wearing one of the plain hospital caps instead.”
Her husband lowered his eyes.
“I told her somebody probably changed it.”
“I thought I was exhausted,” Marissa whispered. “I thought I had remembered wrong.”
Caleb stood.
“Can I ask you something?”
She nodded.
“Would you check that baby’s left shoulder?”
Her husband tightened his arms around the infant.
Nobody moved for several seconds.
Then Marissa slowly pulled the blanket aside.
Near the baby’s left collarbone was a small, dark oval.
Caleb made a broken sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
“There.”
My vision blurred.
Every part of me wanted to reach for that baby.
I didn’t.
Not yet.
Denise stepped between us.
“We are not exchanging infants based solely on a birthmark.”
“Good,” I said.
Marissa nodded immediately.
“Test them.”
The hospital drew samples for an urgent parentage test while administrators began reviewing security footage, transfer records, and everyone who had handled both newborns.
Until the results came back, each baby remained with the family currently holding her under staff supervision.
Those hours were unbearable.
Caleb kept staring toward the hallway.
Marissa cried repeatedly.
And I tried not to think about the possibility that I was soothing her daughter while she was holding mine.
Later that day, Denise returned.
One look at her face told me everything.
“The results are conclusive.”
Caleb had been right.
