Edited by Michael-Leonard
*
Prolog
It was a beautiful warm sunny day in the Valley of the Sun, just perfect for a Sunday drive with the family. Mike Stevens sat behind the wheel of his vintage Mustang convertible. Beside him, his beautiful, eight month pregnant wife Jennifer, leaned back in the bucket seat; eyes closed absorbing the warmth from the late October sun. In the back, their one year old daughter, tucked into her car seat, slept quietly as she usually did moments after beginning their drive.
'It doesn't get any better than this,' thought Mike as he approached the intersection up ahead. A truck was in the left turn lane, waiting for the oncoming traffic to pass. The light was green and the road was clear. As Mike began to pass the truck he glanced over at Jennifer. He never saw the pickup truck that ran the light and hit the car broadside, killing him instantly. Jennifer, because of her condition, had chosen not to wear her lap belt, was thrown hard against the door and window of the car and nearly out of the vehicle. In the back, the car seat preformed its function flawlessly, protecting the baby, who began to scream.
The pickup forced the Mustang sideways, until they both ended up on the sidewalk, sandwiched between a utility pole and the traffic light pole. After the sounds of the crash, the crunching of glass and metal, the screeching of the tires, all that could be heard was the constant sound of the trucks' horn as the driver lay face first against the steering wheel.
The trucker who had been waiting to make his turn jumped down from his truck and ran to the pickup, trying to force the drivers' door open. After a few minutes, several other drivers stopped and cautiously approach the vehicles. They looked into what was left of the Mustang, horrified at the sight. No one paid any attention to the woman holding a baby trying to calm it as she walked down the street away from the scene of the accident. The sound of a police siren and an ambulance racing to the scene could be heard in the distance as she turned from the street into her apartment complex.
Moments later EMT personnel were doing their job, assessing the situation and providing emergency aid. They could tell that the man driving the car was already dead; the pregnant woman was in extremely critical condition and probably would not survive. The police were taking care of the man in the pickup truck, who was clearly drunk and appeared to have no life threatening injuries. As they lifted the woman out of the car placing her on a stretcher, she momentarily regained consciousness.
"Please take care of my baby."
"We'll do everything we can," they assured her as they placed an oxygen mask over her face and started an IV. She slipped back into the darkness, never to wake again. The ambulance raced to the hospital, where after several hours of intensive care, it was decided that the only course of action was to free the unborn baby from the womb. Although she would never know it, Jennifer Stevens gave birth to a healthy six pound, one ounce baby boy.
Back at the scene of the accident, the police were taking pictures of the scene and the vehicles involved, and taking statements from any eye witnesses. A criminal case was surely going to be pressed against the drunk driver. As two of the officers stood, admiring what was once a beautifully restored vehicle, one stated almost as an afterthought.
"Why would they have a car seat in the back; the baby was even born yet?"
It wasn't until the following day, during a routine search of the Stevens home, that they realized that they had another child, a baby girl, and that she was missing.
Chapter 1
Margaret O'Hara couldn't believe what she had done. She had never so much as had a parking ticket and now she had committed a felony. Margaret had gone to church that morning and prayed, asking God for a family of her own. She wanted a baby and, at thirty two years of age, felt that she would never meet a man who would give her one. She knew she wasn't the most beautiful woman in the world, but she felt that at six feet tall and one hundred thirty five pounds, even her relatively plain features would be attractive to someone. She was physically fit, had a good job as an administrator in the local hospital and everyone said she was fun to be around. She just never seemed to meet the right type of guy.
That day she had decided to walk the several miles to and from church and had been approaching the intersection around the corner from her apartment when the accident occurred. She was the first to reach the vehicles and, although she wasn't a trained medical professional, she knew in her heart that there was nothing that could be done for either of the adults in the car. She looked in the back seat, and seeing that the little baby was safe, had reached into the car and removed her from her car seat. She didn't know why she did it, but instead of waiting at the scene, she held the baby, gently rocking her back to sleep as she walked away to the safety of her apartment. She had picked up the bag that had been thrown out of the vehicle on impact; and upon examining its contents found a couple of disposable diapers, a bottle of milk, a bottle of water, and an extra set of clothes.
Margaret called in sick the following day. She arranged for the older woman who lived next door to baby sit for her while she shopped for all the things she would need to care for her 'new baby from God.' She told the woman that she was taking in a foster child and would probably need her to baby sit for her for several months, during the day while she worked. Margaret set up a nursery in her spare bedroom.
The next morning she went to work and found out that the parents had died from injuries sustained in the crash, but that the baby had been taken before the mother had died. She went up to the maternity ward during her lunch hour and looked through the glass at the newly born baby.
"Such a shame."
"What?"
I said, "Such a shame about the baby's parents dying like that," said the charge nurse that had come up behind her.
"I heard that the police are looking for the parents' other child. They think that someone took the child from the scene of the accident. I can't imagine who would do such a thing. I asked the detective that had stopped in to see him -- it's a boy you know -- if they were able to find any next of kin. Apparently there's no one that they can find. It seems that both parents were only children with no living relatives. Poor little guy, he's an orphan and so is his sister if they ever find her."
"What will happen to him?"
"Social services will take him, put him into the system, and hope he gets adopted. I don't think they will have any problems, he's healthy, a newborn, and there's no one to come back to challenge an adoption. I just hope they find the sister soon, who knows what kind of pervert took her."
"Yeah, me too."
"I have to get back to my office; you'll send me the paperwork for his birth certificate?"
"Don't I always?"
When she got back to her office, Margaret put together her paperwork for submitting the new births for the last several days for submission to the State Bureau of Statistics. She held the paperwork waiting for one last document, that of a baby boy named John Stevens. Later that afternoon, she received his paperwork, completed what she had to do, and sent out her paperwork. She prayed that no one would notice the additional form that was included; the one for Kathryn O'Hara, born October 24, weight eight pounds two ounces, twenty two inches, Mother -- Margaret O'Hara, Father -- Unknown.
Three weeks later she received a package in the mail; her daughter's birth certificate and social security number and various pamphlets about taking care of a new born baby and discounts for baby products.
"Well Katie; it seems that you are officially mine."
