Chapter Three
The clinic was in a run down neighborhood set between a 7-Eleven and a defunct Laundromat. Emma was greeted by name with smiles and hugs from nurses and patients alike. Erik was amazed to see the tenderness and love she showed to each individual child as she went on her rounds. As they were entering the nursery he could hear infants fussing. Emma lifted a tiny, squirming bundle into her arms cooing gently as she checked its progress under bandages.
"This little princess is Chloe. She has a cleft palate that needs repair, but when we're done she will be good as new, won't you peanut?" she babbled nonsense words to the delight of the infant. "Have the police called about the parents?" this directed to the nurse. "No, Dr. Merrick. I haven't heard anything yet. Detective Montoya hasn't called today." The nurse replied. Emma held the infant closer to her breast "Poor baby" she whispered. She handed the now sleeping baby over to the waiting hands of the nurse and led Erik out of the room.
"What were you speaking of concerning the child's parents?" he inquired.
"The baby was abandoned. She was found in a dumpster out back, thrown out like freaking trash! She tested positive for heroin so her mother was a druggie. Lord only knows who or what the father is. The cops have been following leads to try and find Chloe's parents. If they cannot be found she will be put up for adoption." Emma's voice was tense and her frustration showed. "No child deserves to be thrown away like trash. Had she not been found, she would have died in that dumpster. If she goes up for adoption, I have connections; she'll have a home with me."
"You found her, cherie, didn't you? You brought her here, you named her, treated her?" Erik put out a hand to stop her, turned and gently pulled her into his arms, cradling her head against his chest.
"I heard a sound one night while taking out the trash; it sounded like a small kitten. I looked in and saw her. God, Erik. She was so tiny, and blue. I don't know how long she'd been there before I found her. It was a cold, rainy night. If I hadn't taken out the trash…"
"Hush" he said as he held her tighter. "You found her, and she will be safe because you care. It amazes me how much you care. I have never met someone like you with such a heart for others. I never knew you could exist. I have seen you sit beside these children who would be seen as devils in my time, as monsters in my existence and touch them, hold them, smile at them, Mon dieu fix them! Make them whole again!" He pulled her head back so he could gaze into her eyes. "You have given me a gift, Emma," her name was a caress on his lips. "Hope, petite. I would like you to look at my face and give your professional opinion." She could see what this admission cost him.
"Thank you, Erik; I would be honored to help you." Emma wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him, then led him into an examination room.
He slowly removed his white mask and bravely met her gaze. She placed her hands on either side of his face and rotated it to look more fully at the afflicted side. Her touch was gentle as she explored the tender skin and inflamed tissue.
"Were you ever told what happened?" she asked.
"It was my understanding that I was born this way." Erik had to exercise an extraordinary amount of control to keep from fidgeting under her caring ministrations.
"This looks like scar tissue to me." She looked closer. "At one time you had a birthmark, probably a strawberry, common enough in infants. Someone tried to remove it. My God, it looks as though they used an acid of some sort, what kind of monster would do that to a helpless infant?" She literally shook with anger as she examined his eye, "And they had the balls to call you the monster!" He grabbed her hands fiercely and said
"What do you mean birthmark, acid? What are you saying?"
"What I am saying Erik Rouchard," she gently squeezed his hands as she sat in front of him. "Is that you were born with nothing more than an ordinary reddish colored patch of skin on your forehead, under your hairline, perfectly ordinary for an infant, but considered a sign of the devil for ignorant, foolish people in your day and age. Someone, probably in your family, wanted to rid you of that telling mark and decided to use some type of acid to burn away the skin. They got their wish, and left you these scars as souvenirs of their superstitious stupidity!"