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By Root 385 0

a rush of admiration for his father. A hardworking farmer, beset by disappointment and tragedy, he had learnt to accept and look beyond both. He remembered the day when his father had told him his new baby brother wasn't coming home, and that his mother couldn't have any more children. He had gone on to say he felt blessed that his wife had survived and that Ross should feel glad he still had a mother. Even when cancer had taken her a few years ago, his father still counted himself fortunate for the time he'd had with her. But Ross couldn't be so stoical. He couldn't just accept what was going to happen. Was Lauren at peace in a dark, dreamless sleep or, as in his nightmare, was she calling to him, desperate to be rescued?

Greenbloom stood up. 'We'll do everything we can for the baby. I just wanted to make sure you knew the facts of the situation so you could prepare yourselves for every eventuality.'

Ross blinked back tears of grief and frustration. He had made a career of finding what others couldn't but now, when it mattered most, he was useless. Her mother passed him the scan and he saw his own grief reflected in her face. Then he saw his father's sadness and compassion. In both he witnessed something else: resignation. They were already making their peace with whatever would happen to Lauren and pinning their hopes on their grandchild.

Ross couldn't do that. He studied the scan. The foetus looked like a baby: there was fine hair on its head; its fingernails were formed; the legs were longer than the arms. He wanted a child more than anything in the world, and he wanted it to have the brothers or sisters he had never had, but he didn't know the baby. He did know and love Lauren. He realized guiltily that he would gladly give up the baby to save his wife. His chest tightened and the blood pounded in his head. Whatever the doctor had said about Lauren, and whatever hope there was for their baby, Ross wasn't ready to give up on her. Not yet. Not ever.

13

Yale University, that evening

'Could you please tell me where Dr Lauren Kelly's office is?'

The young student shook his head. 'Sorry, Sister. Yale's a big place. You'll need to ask at Administration. They'll point you in the right direction. Go to the red-brick building, turn left through the arch and it's the big stone place on the other side of the green.' He checked his watch. 'It's getting late but someone should still be there.'

'Thank you.'

'You're welcome.'

As she walked off, leaning on her stick for support, she could feel herself tiring, but soon she'd be able to rest. She enjoyed strolling through the campus. Yale's leafy academic calm contrasted agreeably with the rush of the modern world, and reminded her of a more reflective age. The quiet didn't quell her excitement, though. Her heart was fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird. She was to be rewarded for her patience. The wait was over.

She smiled, suddenly grateful for the technology of the modern world. Jet planes had whisked her from Entebbe to London to Geneva. There, she had finalized her financial affairs and retrieved the item she kept in the bank's safe-deposit box, then flown on to New York. Without the Internet she couldn't have learnt so quickly of Dr Kelly's achievement. God had been smiling down on her that day at the Jambo Internet café when she had found Lauren Kelly's synopsis on the Yale website.

She opened her case, ignored the vacuum-sealed parcel she had retrieved from Geneva, and took out a creased printout. She reread the first lines of Dr Kelly's synopsis and crossed herself. She had forgotten how many times she had despaired of this day ever coming. It was appropriate that it should happen here, a few hundred yards from where the original lay in the Beinecke Library.

She walked into the stone building the student had mentioned and approached the reception desk. The two women behind it were collecting their handbags, getting ready to leave for the night. 'Can I help you?' asked the younger.

'I hope so. Where can I find Dr Lauren Kelly?'

The young woman looked down