“How old do you think he is?” I whisper.
“Don’t know. Maybe nine or ten.” Zander’s mouth twists as he pulls on his tie.
He and I have both lived through our harrowing childhoods, which have highly influenced our adult lives, and we also understand abandonment and loneliness like no kid should ever have to. I close my eyes, saying a silent prayer, hoping this boy doesn’t have a horrible backstory that will tarnish his future.
“Mr. and Mrs. Teager?” A middle-aged woman dressed in scrubs approaches us. “I wanted to inform you that we’ve called the police. Can you please wait until they arrive? They might have some questions for you about where you found the boy.”
“Of course.” Zander nods before motioning toward the door from which she walked in. “How is he doing?”
“He has a high fever. The doctor also found some infection in his lungs, mostly due to the cold. We’re giving him an IV. He’s too weak. Poor kid. We hope we can find his parents soon.” Her lips twist into a sad smile before she leaves us alone in the sterile-smelling waiting room.
Zander and I settle back on the plastic chairs. There’s no one except us in this room, but through the open door, we can hear the usual activity at the nurses’ station.
I hide myself in Zander’s arms, the hospital smell taking me back to my own childhood days.
Half an hour later, a police officer knocks on the door of the waiting room. “Mr. and Mrs. Teager?”
We nod before getting up.
“I’m Gabriel Cole from Cherrywood Police Department.” He shakes hands with us. “Thank you for bringing the boy here. Would you mind if I ask you a few questions?”
He sits on the couch while we take our seats.
“Where did you find him?”
We tell him all about how and where we found the boy. It feels strange to call him “the boy” during the whole conversation. I wish we knew his name.
“Were you able to ID him?” I ask.
“Actually, Mrs. Teager, I was hoping you’d be able to help me there. Did you find anything on him?”
“Yes. He had a backpack.” Zander grabs the small backpack from under his chair.
Officer Cole opens the main zipper and takes out an empty plastic water bottle. After placing it on the wooden table, he pulls out two frayed and faded cotton T-shirts and two pairs of pants. The last items are a notebook and a small pencil box. Everything is wet and isn’t of much help in identifying the owner.
The police officer puts everything back and opens the smaller compartment. After inspecting the picture frame he just retrieved, he hands it to me. It’s a photograph taken at some amusement park—a happy couple with a small boy, maybe five or six years old. I wonder if that’s him.
Officer Cole finally opens the smallest pocket on the top of the bag and retrieves a plastic card.
He reads it and then shows it to us. It’s an ID card from a group home for kids with no family.
“It’s an address from Cherrywood, but I can’t see the kid’s name.” I struggle to form the words as my heart gallops inside my chest. There’s a room and bed number, but no name.
“How did he reach the highway?” Zander grabs his neck, and I can feel the frustration seeping out of him.
“I’m wondering the same.” Officer Cole puts the bag back on the ground, except for the ID card, which he tucks into his shirt pocket.
I’m about to ask him what will happen next when a nurse enters the waiting room. “The boy is awake.”
The police officer nods to her before turning our way. “Thank you so much, Mr. and Mrs. Teager. I’ll speak to the boy and try to find out how he landed on the highway.” When we make no move to get up and leave the hospital, as he most likely expected, he adds, “Thank you for bringing him in.”
I notice from the side that Zander’s grip has tightened on the arm of the chair. Unease settles inside me, watching him so shaken.
“Will it be okay if we wait? We’d like to see him.”
Zander’s grasp loosens, and he pulls me closer to him as we wait for an answer.
“Um, wouldn’t you like to leave? It’s already ten thirty.” Officer Cole jerks his head toward the large clock on the wall.