Nate
The Search
A Father’s Search for a Long-Lost Daughter
Dorothy May Mercer
© Copyright 2017, 2018
Mercer Publications & Ministries, Inc., Publisher
It has been more than twenty years since his newborn daughter was kidnapped out of the hospital nursery. Nate’s first wife never recovered from that disaster. Even though Nate healed and made a life for himself with a new family, he has never stopped looking for his firstborn.
Since then, life has treated him well. He has no reason to complain; he works hard at a very interesting, sometimes exciting and dangerous job, and takes pride in his family. Still, he sometimes wonders what happened to Sally Miller. Where is she, and what does she look like? Is she in trouble?
As the saying goes, “Be careful what you wish for.”
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Dedication
In honor of my grandmother, Caroline Thompson Douglas 08/27/1818 – 03/26/1904, who might have made a good special agent, but had no such opportunity, this book is dedicated to the women who have served in law enforcement, the FBI, and especially to those who have worked hard and sacrificed much to become heads of field offices and departments.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Prologue-Twenty Years Earlier
Chapter 1 Today, Twenty years later.
Chapter 2 Sally
Chapter 3 Nate
Chapter 4 Sally’s Mother
Chapter 5 Airline Flight
Chapter 6 Reagan International
Chapter 7 Eyes on Alert
Chapter 8 Old Pals Meet Again
Chapter 9 Holed Up
Chapter 10 Chicago
Chapter 11 Rob
Chapter 12 Zip-a-dee-do-da
Chapter 13 Next Day
Chapter 14 Kabandha
Chapter 15 Kabandha’s Test Flight
Chapter 16 Arlington
Chapter 17 As Fate Would Have It
Chapter 18 A Little After Nine AM
Epilogue
Author’s Notes
Questionnaire
Glossary
Cast of Characters
Facts
BOOKS FROM MERCERPUBLICATIONS
Prologue-Twenty Years Earlier
[Dear Reader: If you are a fan of the McBride Novels you may have read Nate’s back-story, reprinted in this prologue, in The Arlington Alias or in Short & Fun Stories, Vol. 2. If not, the entire story follows here. Hang on for the beginning of Nate’s ride.]
Baby Joy
Somewhere in the Western United States
E thel Goodrich, and husband Nate, had been unable to have children. After years of trying, Ethel was in her late thirties, when she finally conceived. The two of them were thrilled and could not resist telling everyone right away. Ethel was getting along beautifully with no morning sickness at all, until one day she started passing blood. Her doctor admitted her to the hospital in an attempt to stop the bleeding, but it was impossible. The baby miscarried. Ethel was heartbroken beyond comfort. Nate tried to console her, but he was suffering, too.
It was necessary to do a D & C, and during the course of this procedure, suspicious cells were discovered. A biopsy was ordered, which disclosed cancer. Fortunately, it was in an early stage. Three doctors met with the unhappy couple to discuss their options. The only way to be absolutely sure that the cancer was completely gone would be to remove all of Ethel’s reproductive organs.
Ethel wept. “No, no, no,” she sobbed, shaking her head. “I’ll do anything, chemotherapy, or whatever, but please, don’t take away my uterus.”
In the end, Nate won out. He couldn’t risk losing his wife. Ethel underwent the surgery.
The results were as good as could be expected, as the surgeons were ninety-nine percent certain they got all the cancer. An added bonus was they were able to save some of her eggs, for possible future fertilization with Nate’s sperm.
“It can be very costly,” her primary care physician told them later, “but if you and Nate consent, I can refer you to a company that will complete the lab work and freeze and store the embryos for you.”
“But, I don’t understand,” said Ethel. “How can I carry a baby, now?”
“Well, you don’t, my dear. There are women who will carry it for you. The company, and its agency, has people who contract to serve as surrogates. Once the child is delivered, it becomes yours. You are the genetic and legal parents.”
Nate smiled at his wife. “Let’s at least have the embryos saved. We can do that much. There will be time later to decide whether we want to go through with the rest.”
And so they did.
It took the couple three long years to save up enough money for the service, by scrimping and saving every dime and borrowing all they could. They even took out a second mortgage on their house and borrowed on their life insurance policies.
They researched several agencies, consulted with an attorney, and finally selected, not the cheapest, but the one they thought was the best, the most upright, and honest and the one with the best record of results.
A surrogate mother was interviewed and selected. This particular agency believed in having the mother bond with the prospective parents, and so Ethel and Nate were able to follow and enjoy the pregnancy, step by step.
Ethel’s girl-friends threw her a baby shower. The surrogate mother attended. Ethel and Nate spent weeks getting everything ready, shopping and fixing up their daughter’s room. Truthfully, the baby’s prospective Aunt Cynthia had trouble not buying everything in sight. The baby would have her own nursery with all the latest brand-new paraphernalia.
Ethel spent many hours in the nursery room just playing with all the cute little girlie outfits and baby things. Cynthia made the cross-country trip, twice, to share in her sister’s joyful preparations.
At last, a beautiful baby girl was born by a normal delivery. Ethel and Nate were in seventh heaven. They journeyed to the hospital where they could look at their baby. She was perfect. Their happiness knew no bounds. Grandparents came, as well, during visiting hours. None were allowed to hold her, as yet. They could pick her up and take her home in six days.
Ethel tried to stay busy during the wait. She sent out birth announcements to the newspaper and to friends and relatives. It showed the baby’s picture, only hours old. She and Nate had decided on a name, Joy Alice.
The night before the big day, Ethel barely slept from excitement and Nate was almost as bad. Ethel packed everything she could possibly need to bring the baby home, a little outfit, receiving blanket, warm blanket, diapers and a changing mat. She even had a warm bottle of formula, just in case.
Nate took the day off from work, had the car washed and serviced, installed the baby’s car carrier in the back seat of the car. When he brought the car around for Ethel, she was more than ready. Nate snapped a picture as she left the house and one more after he seated her in the car. What a great smile! Nate would look at it, again, month’s later, and realize it was the last smiling picture he had of Ethel.
Driving to the hospital, Nate observed the speed limit and drove with as much care as if Joy Alice was already in the car. He let Ethel off at the door and drove to a nearby parking space. Ethel waited for him to join her and together they took the elevator up to the birthing floor. Leaving the elevator, they walked directly to the nursery window to look in on their baby. She was not in her bassinet, so they assumed that the nurses were making final preparations for the baby’s release to her parents.
Ethel and Nate stepped to the nurses’ station.
“Hello, may I help you?” asked the duty nurse.
“Yes, please, we are here to pick up our baby girl,” they both beamed.
“And your names?” asked the nurse.
“We are the Goodriches, Nate and Ethel.”
The nurse silently tapped into her computer. “Goodrich, you say?”
“Yes, G-o-o-d-r-i-c-h, Goodrich, Nathan and Ethel Goodrich.”
The nurse typed some more and gazed at the computer. “And the date of birth?”
“Just six days ago, the nineteenth. She was born at 7:59 P.M.”
“I don’t see a Goodrich. What was your doctor’s name? I’ll look under that.”
“Dr. Yarnoka, I believe,” said Nate.
“Yes, that’s right,” Ethel confirmed. They grinned at each other.
“Yes, he is a regular here,” said the nurse. “Let me try Yarnoka… ah… here is his record. He had three deliveries that day. Reinhardt, that was a boy, then another boy. They have both been discharged. Let me see, there was one girl, seven pounds, four ounces, a good weight for a newborn girl. Let’s see, she lost weight for the first three days and then she started to gain, which is good. Her mother named her Sally. I like that. Sally Miller.”
Ethel wanted to scream, Will you just shut up! Get to the point! Instead, she tried to remain calm. “We would like to take our daughter home, now, if you please.”
“Well, I don’t see any Goodrich here. Let me look a day forward and back. Sometimes these records get misplaced by one day, especially if it is close to midnight.”
“It wasn’t close to midnight,” said Nate, impatiently. “Try 7:59 P.M. There can’t be many at that exact time, can there?”
“Well, there was just the one, the baby girl Sally Miller was born at the exact same time, 7:59 P.M. on the nineteenth. Are you sure your baby was born at that time?”
Ethel’s body started to shake. She felt sick to her stomach.
“Are you feeling all right?” asked the nurse. “You look a little pale. It’s only been six days since you delivered. Maybe you should lie down.”
Nate held his wife up. “Where is Sally Miller?” he demanded.
“Why, at home, I presume. She was discharged with her mother two days ago.”
Ethel crumpled in Nate’s arms.
“My wife has fainted!” Nate exclaimed. “Get us some help immediately.”
When Ethel woke up, she was staring at pale green curtain dividers and a white ceiling. She saw Nate standing beside her, holding her hand. She turned her head toward him and moistened her lips. He merely looked at her with tears in his eyes.
“What happened?” she asked.
“You fainted.”
“I mean what happened to our Baby Joy?”
“She’s g-gone. Darling, I’m so sorry.”
“Gone? How can she be gone?”
“The surrogate kidnapped her.”
“Oh, dear God! No. She can’t do that.”
“She can and she did,” Nate choked.
Ethel merely stared, unable to grasp what happened.
“The police have been alerted,” Nate continued, trying to stem his own tears, “but, on the phone, they were not encouraging. They will try to find her, but, even if they do, we must get a Court order to try and get her back. The laws of this state are murky on the subject. We will need to hire our own private investigator and attorney.”
“What about the agency? We have a contract,” she wailed.
“I called them immediately. They were very sympathetic, but they said that their hands are tied. Apparently, there is no law in this state that protects the new parents. Over the years, law enforcement has stayed out of these disputes.
“It seems, if the birth mother chooses, she can keep the baby.”
“Why weren’t we told?” she sobbed.
Nate had no answer. The two of them were devastated. They could only hold each other and grieve.
At length, Nate signed for Ethel’s discharge. They left the hospital, in sorrow, and went home, empty and forlorn.
Together they pulled the shades in Joy’s room and closed the door, permanently. Ethel cried her eyes dry that day and night. Nate comforted her as long as he could and finally fell asleep in exhaustion.
During the weeks that followed, Ethel moved through her days like a zombie. She had left her job to stay home with the baby, and now she was lost. Nate gradually recovered. He had his work to keep him engaged, and there were the police and costly lawyers, keeping him busy with attempts to recover Baby Joy. At length, he had to file suit, naming the agency and the birth mother. Nate’s savings were exhausted and the bills mounted exponentially.
Ethel and Nate were barely able to communicate. He tried to bring her into the discussions over the lawsuit, but she had given up hope, entirely. Whenever he brought up the subject, her tears flowed so badly, that he could not stand it.
Nate was receiving news from his private investigator about the baby’s progress, but Ethel showed no interest. Eventually, he gave up trying to talk with her about Joy or anything else.
Nate had worn out his friends at work, on the subject. As time passed, the only one who remained interested and sympathetic was his sister-in-law, Cynthia Patterson. Even Joy’s grandparents were tired of listening. They urged Nate to give up the lawsuit and try again with a different surrogate. After all, there were fertilized eggs still frozen, weren’t there?
Nate tried to broach that possibility with Ethel. He prevailed upon Cynthia to talk with her, too. Ethel would not hear of it. She dismissed the subject and turned away from both of them, remaining mired in her misery.
Privately, Cynthia thought that Ethel should be seeing a grief counselor. One day she broached the subject with Nate, as they were talking on the phone. He promised to discuss it with Ethel.
At first, Ethel was reluctant, but eventually she agreed to go for group therapy, if Nate would accompany her. Ethel had not left the house in all this time.
The night of their first weekly class, she panicked and braced herself at the door. She couldn’t do it. Nate took her arm and gently tried to pull her hands off the door-frame. Ethel started to scream. He had to let go. “Please try,” he pleaded.
She shook her head, “I c-can’t!”
Nate turned away, got in the car, and went to the class, alone, where he was welcomed. The people gathered in a circle of chairs. They introduced themselves by first names only, and told briefly how they lost a child. Nate had not planned to speak, at all, but when it came around to him, the words began to flow uncontrollably. Nate realized he had found people who understood.
Nate looked forward to the group meetings. Each week he invited Ethel along. She merely shook her head, “No thank you. You go on, Nate.”
In time, Nate joined with the group in a restaurant after the meetings. He became acquainted with the members. These were his friends and support group. Once, he stayed behind with two of the women. This became a weekly habit with one woman in particular. Nate hated to go home. As the nightly trysts grew later, Nate let himself into the house quietly and bedded down on the sofa.
As Nate’s recovery progressed, he needed to get away from Ethel. He found more and more opportunities to stay out late. She didn’t seem to notice. She sat in the same chair staring, most of the time, now. Nate had just about given up fixing her meals. Hours later, the same food remained untouched. She had stopped bathing and fixing her hair. After seeing her in the same clothes, day and night, Nate would lead her into the bedroom and help her change into fresh things.
Nate couldn’t afford to hire help for Ethel. At this point he was doing the laundry, cooking and cleaning. The day came when Ethel seemed unresponsive, almost catatonic. Nate made an appointment with their family doctor. When the day arrived, he cleaned her up as best he could and carried her to the car. She said nothing and made no objection.
Nate remained in the waiting room while the doctor examined Ethel. After exhausting every magazine available, Nate went to the window and asked what was taking so long.
“I’ll go and check for you,” said the receptionist.
Nate waited. When she returned, she told Nate that the doctor had ordered some tests. “I think they will be finished, soon. If you’ll just take a seat, someone will call you when she is ready.”
After more time had passed, a nurse called, “Mr. Goodrich?”
“Yes,” Nate looked up.
“The doctor will see you, now. Come with me, please.” She held a clipboard in one arm and opened the door for Nate with the other. “Right this way, please.”
Nate followed her down a series of corridors to the very end and into a comfortable office overlooking a small pond and garden.
“Hello, Mr. Goodrich,” said the doctor. “If you will just have a seat, please.”
This procedure was curious. Nate perched on the edge of a leather-bound office chair, and gazed directly at the doctor. What was happening? Nate was sure that nothing could faze him, now, but his palms started to perspire.
“Nate, I’ve been your doctor for how many years, now? We’ve been through a lot, haven’t we?”
Nate nodded, wishing the doctor would just say it.
“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I have some bad news.”
Nate’s heart raced. He wiped his palms on his pants.
“There’s no other way to say it, Nate. Your wife’s cancer has returned.”
Nate paled. His mouth dropped open. “Uh…” he exhaled and fell back in the chair.
The doctor waited.
Nate’s brow furrowed. “But… I thought… they got it all.”
“I’m sorry, Nate. A few cells escaped. With the deep depression that Ethel has experienced, her body stopped fighting.”
“You mean…?”
“No one knows, but I think the cancer has metastasized.”
“Spread…?”
“I’m sorry.”
“But, what can we do?”
“Well, I’d like to send her to a specialist. There is always hope.”
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