Free A Southern Girl by John Warley Page A

from the old door?”
    The Captain rocked in his chair. “There was one.”
    “One month ago?”
    “I cannot remember. Time is elusive as you age.” He stood up suddenly. “But if I could remember, I could not say. There are strict regulations, and I am nearing retirement.”
    I could think of nothing to say except, “I understand.”
    “But Mi Cha might help. She found a child at the old door not long ago. What I am forbidden to discuss she may share freely. It is up to her. The sergeant can direct you to her home.”
    “I thank you so much. My friend thanks you.”
    I left the station for the freezing air outside, glad to escape the heat and the uniforms. I carried a map drawn by the sergeant. It looked nothing like the mildewed ceiling at home. The wind and snow watered my eyes as I tried to shield the paper with my body. Near the bus stop not far from the old door I found a wall to flatten the map. Snow fell into my eyes and I had to clear them to see the map. The house I sought was not far, a short walk.
    On the third knock the door opened and an old woman, an auntie, opened the door. She could not have known why I was there but it did not seem to matter. She told me to come in. I followed her to her kitchen, which smelled of cabbage and garlic. She said she had been chopping vegetables. I told her why I had come. She offered hot tea and took my coat. I liked her very much for her kindness.
    “Oh, yes,” she said as we sipped tea at the kitchen table. “I remember well. It was the day I lost Mojo, my dog.” She paused, staring at me through tired eyes. “But the child belonged to you, not your friend.”
    I said nothing. The tea warmed my hands.
    “I will not press you, child. I am a mother also. And this morning I spent two hours in this weather looking for Mojo. I would not have gone out into this cold for a friend.”
    I remained silent, but my eyes must have told the old woman what she knew.
    “She was a quite beautiful baby, but fussy. Perhaps that was understandable.”
    “You are certain it was the same child?” I asked. “One month ago?”
    “Quite certain. A newborn wrapped in a gray blanket. May I ask why you are seeking her?”
    I sipped my tea. “Only to satisfy myself as to her safety. To know she is well and cared for will allow me some peace.”
    “You have not thought of regaining her?”
    “No.”
    “That is best. What is done is done. And she will thrive at the home. The nurse told me such babies are imported by wealthy Americans. She will have a good life.”
    “You are wise,” I said.
    She laughed softly. “No. Merely old. Have I told you all you wish to know?”
    “Yes … I suppose.”
    “You don’t wish the name of the nurse?”
    Of course I did, as she knew.
    “Hana, as I recall. A plain woman older than you. She had a knack with the child. It is well you came soon after. Another month or two and I would not have been able to recall the nurse’s name.”
    I rose to leave. “You have been very kind. Could you give me one more piece of information? Directions to the home; I do not know the city.”
    “I will direct you,” said Mi Cha. “It is easy to find, and you will ask another if I refuse. But my advice is to stay away. You have done well by your baby. Leave her there. This is only my advice.”
    “I wish only to know she arrived safely at the home.”
    Mi Cha smiled at me as a mother would. “Search your heart fully, child. You do not yet know it.”
    I felt my face redden. “Thank you for tea. I hope you find your dog.”
    “The dog is lost. This is certain. Still, I search. It is better than the reality.”
    Outside, I walked head down against the wind. It was so strange to walk where no one knew my name or had ever seen me before. The buildings along the way got bigger with each block, but the home was not so big. I went inside and asked for the nurse by name.

6
    Hana
    Soo Yun’s condition was as I had feared: pneumonia. Her time outside the door in