A Southern Girl: A Novel

14: Hana

A Southern Girl 132 j 14 i Hana When Faith ordered Soo Yun back to the ward, I exploded from the infirmary ’s side door and tramped two blocks through the snow. Walking into the wind, I lowered her head to protect my eyes from the sting of subfreezing gusts. Frosted breath vented from my mouth and nostrils, expelled with great thrust by adrenaline but immediately blunted, then reversed, by the headwind, sweeping over and behind me in tendrils of human vapor. Despite the frigid air, I gradually regained a rhythmic breath. My anger behaved very much like my breath; as hard as I thrust it forward at Faith, it washed back over me. It was bad enough that Faith had caught me bypassing Open Arms policy, but to have that truth revealed in the presence of Dr. Kim added humiliation. At the corner I crossed the street, without looking, to embark upon a third block until I realized I wore only a sweater and risked hypothermia. I turned back, shivering now. This entire affair, I thought as I walked, had ceased to be about a child and had become only a matter of consequences. Faith wished to issue an Alert so she could shift the decision onto the Carters. She had become a prisoner of that photo of Sohn on her desk. The wind blew faster than I could walk, forcing me to lean back against it. I could no longer feel my ears at all. This match was still possible if I took all responsibility. It was a simple matter of assuring Faith, Dr. Kim, and anyone else unfortunate enough to place a foot within the circle of blame. If I was wrong, what could they do? I did not see lines of nurses forming at the home to work eighty hours a week for the modest hwan they paid me. I saw only lines of children waiting to leave. By the time I returned to the nursery, Soo Yun again lay in her crib, at the foot of which rested a plastic traveling bag stocked with diapers. I tried not to look at it as I adjusted the covers around her shoulders. From the clock on the wall I knew that the first visitors for Open House would be arriving soon. I paused, gazing down at the child’s head protruding Confluence 133 from the blanket. Her eyes were closed but her lips quivered in a suckling motion, either in anticipation of her next feeding or in memory of some past nourishment, recalled now only in dreams. I knew I must act swiftly. I thought of the family in the photograph, the Carters. If the situation was to be fully and fairly explained to them, they might instruct the home to send her anyway, but I was unwilling to take such a risk. The wrong decision amounted to rejecting a bar of gold over the presence of a scuff mark. I had to overcome Faith to avoid this outcome. I turned from the crib and in a pace closer to a run than a walk I approached the elevator. The door to Faith Stockdale’s office was closed but I entered without knocking. My walk had numbed me to whatever chill had overtaken my relationship with Faith as a result of our earlier confrontation. I determined I would speak as though nothing had happened, but my tone proved only a partial screen for my impatience. Faith, dialing the phone, looked up, startled. “May I sit down?” I asked, seating myself in front of her desk without waiting for a response. Faith replaced the phone in its cradle. “Have you been outside? Your ears are crimson.” “Soo Yun must be allowed to leave today. I will take full responsibility when I sign her certification this afternoon.” “If it were that simple,” said Faith, leaning forward, “I would let you. But the call will come to me. What explanation can I give? That I was unaware? That would plainly be false.” “Tell them you investigated thoroughly. That you consulted the doctor and the child’s nurse. Tell them you relied on my assurance, as you will be for the other matches leaving my ward today.” Faith sighed, a signal of controlled provocation. “But I have a duty to my agency and to the parents who have agreed to take this baby. You are placing us both in a terrible spot. Why?” “Because I have a duty to the children...