The fifty-five-year-old farmer patiently pretended he hadn’t heard a word she said. For the fourth time, emphasizing her determination by slamming a file folder down on her desk, she said, “I cannot give you information on a child that has been adopted. You told me to place that baby seventeen years ago. Every time you come in here, I tell you it is illegal for me to give you any information. What makes you think it is legal today, when it wasn’t yesterday or a month ago or sixteen years ago, when you suddenly decided you made a mistake by giving him away?”      

Brent leaned forward, rubbing the light afternoon stubble on his chin. “What is the legal age? How old does Dwain have to be for us to contact him?”

 She gasped. “I . . . I just don’t understand why you keep asking me. You cannot contact an adopted child. Period. End of subject. Now, I want you to leave. I have important work to do.”

 Five-year-old Tammy Rae rushed into the office on abnormally short legs, holding up little arms for Grandpa to lift her. As he set her onto his lap, she excitedly showed him a book the receptionist had given her to read. “It’s about puppies. I can read it to you.” Moving her stunted little fingers under the words, she read excitedly, “Four puppies in a box.”

 He shifted her on his lap to keep eye contact with the woman he privately referred to as “Zelda, the witch.” He said calmly, to not frighten the little girl, “Zelda, people make mistakes. I made a mistake. I didn’t understand about dwarfism. It was an honest mistake. But you knew the baby wasn’t mine to give away. Jeff had to consent before you could take his baby.”

He looked down and said softly to Tammy Rae, “Yes, honey, I see the puppies. What color are the ribbons they’re wearing?”

Looking up he said, “You have to accept your share of the blame in this, Zelda. I was taking Dwain home when you showed up at the hospital and told me, in your experience, you were certain that I wouldn’t be able to cope with the baby’s handicap. I didn’t know you then,”—he let his eyes tell her what he thought of her—“so I had no reason not to believe you when you said the state could care for him better than we could.”

 Referring to the little one he held, he said, “This one and her sister Teresa could read before they were four years old. Teresa is in the fifth grade.”

The woman stiffened. “I have seen Teresa. I am fully aware of how well she is doing in school, and I am also aware of the fact that neither of your granddaughters have had the physical problems that boy was born with.” She looked sharply at the young receptionist leaning to lift the little girl into her arms. “In the future, Miss Jennings, you will not come into my office when I am talking with a client.”

“I’m sorry.” The young lady smiled painfully as she carried Tammy Rae out of the office. To Brent she whispered, “I’ll read to her.”

“Now, as I was saying.” Zelda motioned to the file cabinet. “You gave that baby up because you did not want to bother with future medical problems, and you did not want to pay for operations.”

He sighed. “My daughter was sixteen years old and had just given birth to twins. My wife passed away when Sara was fourteen. You told us that the most we could handle was one of those babies.”

She glared at him. “No, you knew the normal boy would be able to help you on your farm, but that little one would be nothing but trouble. So if you don’t mind, I have work to do. If, I hear of a new law that allows me to tell you the location of an adopted child, I will be in contact with you.”