Life Blood --III---Page 9

baby that's foreign-born, there still can be plenty of heartbreak. That's just how it is."

"I'd always thought so too," I said. "It's actually the underlying
motif of my picture. But today I had an incredible experience. I
filmed an interview of a single woman, early forties, who just
adopted a baby boy. It took less than three months and he's blond
and blue-eyed and perfect. I saw him, I held him, and I can assure
you he's as American as peach cobbler. The way she tells it, the
whole adoption process was a snap. Zero hassles and red tape."
        "That's most exceptional." She peered at me dubiously.
"Actually more like impossible. Frankly, I don't believe it. This
child must have been kidnapped or something. How old, exactly,
was he when she got him?"

"I don't know. Just a few weeks, I think."

Her eyes bored in. "This woman, whoever she is, was very, very lucky. If what she says is true."

"The organization that got the baby for her is called Children
of Light," I went on. "That's all I know, really. I think it's up the
Hudson somewhere, past the Cloisters. Have you ever heard of
them?"

Dr. Hannah Klein, I knew, was pushing three score and ten,
had traveled the world, seen virtually everything worth seeing. In
younger years she was reputed to have had torrid liaisons with
every notable European writer on the West Side. Her list of
conquests read like an old New Yorker masthead. If only I looked
half that great at her age. But whatever else, she was
unflappable. Good news or bad, she took it and gave it with grace.
Until this moment. Her eyes registered undisguised dismay.
        "You can't mean it. Not that place. All that so-called New Age
. . . are you really sure you want to get involved in something like
that?"

I found myself deeply confused. Were we talking about the

same thing? Then I remembered Carly had said something about an infertility clinic.

"Frankly, nobody knows the first thing about that man,"

Hannah raged on. "All you get is hearsay. He's supposedly one of
those alternative-medicine types, and a few people claim he's had
some success, but it's all anecdotal. My own opinion is, it's what
real physicians call the 'placebo effect.' If a patient believes hard
enough something will happen, some of the time it actually might.
For God's sake, I'm not even sure he's board-certified. Do yourself
a favor and stay away. Oftentimes, people like that do more harm

than good." Then her look turned inquisitive. "Did you say he's

providing children for adoption now? That's peculiar. When did he start that?"

Was I hearing some kind of professional jealousy slipping out? Hannah Klein was definitely Old School to the core.
        "He who?" I was trying to remember the name of the doctor
Carly had mentioned. "You mean—"

"He says his name is . . . what? Goddard? Yes, Alex Goddard. He's—"

My pager chirped, interrupting her, and she paused, clearly annoyed. I looked down to see a number I knew well. It had to be Lou Crenshaw, our aforementioned security guard. He'd been off today, but there was only one reason he would page me: some kind of news from Lenox Hill.

Maybe it was good news about Sarah! My hopes soared. Or maybe it was bad. Please, dear God.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Klein. I've got to go. Right now. It could be a medical emergency."

She nodded, then slid open the top drawer of her desk and
handed me a list of adoption agencies. "All right, here, take this
and look it over. I've dealt with some of them, letters of reference
for patients like you." She must have realized the insensitivity of
that last quip, because she took my hand and squeezed it, the
closest we'd ever come to intimacy. "Let me know if I can help
you, Morgan. Really."

Grasping the lifeless paper, I ached for Steve all over again. Times like this, you need some support. I finally glanced down at the list as I headed out. Sure enough, Children of Light was
nowhere to be seen.

Why not? I wondered. They'd found Kevin, a lovely blond

baby boy, for Carly, a single woman, in no time at all. They

sounded like miracle-makers, and if there was ever a moment for
miracles, this was it. Shouldn't they at least have been given a
footnote?

I wanted to stalk right back and demand to know the real
reason she was so upset, but I truly didn't want to waste a
moment.

Lou had paged me from a pay phone—he didn't actually have
a cell phone of his own—and I recognized the number as
belonging to the phone next to the Lenox Hill Hospital's third-floor
nurses' station. When I tried it, however, it was busy, so I decided
to just get in my car and drive there as fast as I could.