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July 1945
Ellen stood up from her desk when Gladys ushered Mr. and Mrs. Thomas into her office. They shook hands as they introduced themselves. She offered them coffee but they declined. Ellen returned to her desk and studied them as they relaxed in the chairs facing hers.
Mrs. Thomas was about Ellen’s age, early thirties. She was medium height, around 5’4”, with a shapely figure. Green eyes and a small, slightly upturned, nose gave her a girlish look, in spite of the perfectly coiffed dark blond hair that fell to her shoulders and the tailored gray skirt and jacket that she wore.
Her husband was a few years older, tall and thin. His dark brown hair was parted on one side and as it swept across his forehead. His hair was thinning and it seemed as if he would begin to try hiding his bald spots in a few years. His nose was crooked, his chin pointed, and his dark brown eyes were shrewd and observant. His dark gray suit was unwrinkled and his shirt snowy white.
“What can I do for you, Mr. and Mrs. Thomas?”
“Well, Doctor,” Mrs. Thomas said slowly. “We would like to have a baby.”
“I see,” Ellen responded, although she was not sure she did.
“We've been married for 16 years,” Mr. Thomas told her. “We've tried for all those years, but haven't been able to have a baby. The two times my wife became pregnant, she miscarried before the third month.”
“It broke our hearts, both times,” Mrs. Thomas said softly. “We want a baby more than anything in the world.”
“I see,” Ellen said again. “Of course, there's always adoption.”
“Yes,” Mr. Thomas said. “We looked into it. But adoption agencies will not even consider us because of my medical history.”
“Are you in poor health, Mr. Thomas?”
“I have a heart condition,” he said. “I’ve had it all my life. Most of the time I’m just fine but I tire easily. Because my doctor says my condition will probably get worse and I may not live to see 40, the agencies won’t take a chance on giving us a baby. They say they want the babies to go to homes where both parents are likely to be around to see them grow up.”
“What is it that you want from me?”
“Well,” Mrs. Thomas said, twisting her hands nervously in her lap. “Our lawyer said a private adoption would be best and he has made some inquiries, but so far he hasn’t found anything. A woman at the beauty parlor told me that you had helped her friend adopt a baby... privately.”
“Doc and I have helped a few couples,” Ellen said. “Girls have come to us on occasion, who can’t keep their babies, and they ask us to help find good homes for them. Are you asking me to find a baby for you?”
“Yes,” Mr. Thomas said. “If you know of a girl who would be willing. We would like to keep this private... with as few people as possible knowing about it. There is still a stigma about adoption and we'd like to tell people that the baby is ours... our real child.”
“You’re going to pretend that Mrs. Thomas is pregnant?”
“Is that a problem?” he asked.
“Not for me,” Ellen replied smiling. “But faking a pregnancy can be difficult and tricky since I don’t even have the prospect of a girl now.”
“We’ll take care of that,” Mr. Thomas said briskly. “If you'll just let us know as soon as you have someone who's willing to give her baby to us, we’ll take care of the details. Oh, and we'd prefer a boy.”
“Well, now that I cannot guarantee,” Ellen told him. “No more than I could guarantee a boy if Mrs. Thomas were to actually give birth.”
“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” Mrs. Thomas said breathlessly. “I just want a baby.”
“Of course, we understand that there is no guarantee.” Mr. Thomas gave Ellen a level gaze. “Now... how much will it cost?”
“The girl will need living expenses,” Ellen said thoughtfully. “Then there are her medical expenses.”
“And we expect to pay something to you, for helping us with this,” Mr. Thomas added.
The three of them fell silent as Ellen looked at them and contemplated their request. Could she do this without Doc knowing about it, she wondered. Mrs. Thomas was right... she had helped a few couples with private adoptions. Most of the young, unmarried, pregnant girls who came to them either married their boyfriend or placed the baby for adoption with an agency. But there were a few couples who, like Mr. and Mrs. Thomas, couldn't adopt from an agency for some reason. If Doc felt they would give a baby a good home, he would recommend them to a pregnant girl and help facilitate a private adoption. Of course, Doc Ramsey never accepted any money for this service, other than his regular fee for the pregnancy and birth. Since taking over the obstetric part of the practice, Ellen had taken over that service as well. Not being the paragon of virtue that Doc was, Ellen did accept small tokens of appreciation from adoptive parents; money never reported to Doc.
“I think $5,000 will be sufficient,” Ellen said, hoping there was no sign of tremor in her voice. That was more money than she had ever seen at one time.
Mr. Thomas did not even blink. “That will be fine,” he told her.
“All right, then, if you will give me your address and phone number, I will let you know if something comes up. You do understand, I hope, that I have no idea if or when a girl will come to me, wanting to give her baby up for adoption.”
“Yes, yes, we understand.” Mrs. Thomas took a hanky out of her purse and dabbed at her moist eyes as she wrote their names, address, home phone number, as well as his number at the bank. “Thank you so much for your help, Dr. Goodman,” she added.
Ellen watched them leave, then took the paper with the information on it and tucked it inside a desk drawer. She looked at the box containing her ring and again thought about Abraham. She wondered about the couple that Mr. Martin had arranged to adopt her baby. They were a Negro couple, and probably not as wealthy as Mr. and Mrs. Thomas. But he had told them that the husband was a professional, maybe a lawyer or doctor. It had not occurred to her to wonder back then, but now she wondered how much they were willing to pay Mr. Martin for the adoption.
Ellen shook her head to dispel the memories. She picked up the box and put it into her purse, out of sight. Then she stood and straightened her skirt and left her office to see the next patient.
Two months later, Ellen walked into an exam room to see a new patient. Sitting on the table, looking frightened, was a young girl. She was a tall, big-boned girl, slightly overweight. Her dark blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail and her green eyes were large and luminous. Ellen looked at the chart and found her name. Sarah Odem.
“Good morning, Sarah. I'm Dr. Goodman. What are you here for today?”
“Morning, ma’am,” the girl mumbled and her face turned bright red. “I... I... ” she lowered her voice, keeping her eyes on the floor. “I think I’m gonna have a baby.”
“I see. How old are you, Sarah?”
“Fifteen last month,” the girl said.
“Are you married?”
“No, ma’am,” she whispered. “And my daddy... he’ll kill me if he finds out.”
“What about your boyfriend? Does he know?”
“Bobby Joe Howard... he don’t know. I been too scared to tell him... to tell anyone.”
“All right, well let’s take a look here and see what we are dealing with.”
Thirty minutes later Sarah Odem sat in the chair Lucille Thomas had occupied, and Ellen sat behind her desk.
“Sarah, you are indeed pregnant. And you must be about five months along. Are you sure no one knows?”
“Yes, ma’am, I’m sure. I’m a big girl anyway, and I’ve been wearing my clothes kinda loose. No one knows.”
“Well, I don’t see how you're going to keep it secret much longer. Would you like for me to talk to your parents?”
“No!” Sarah’s eyes widened with fear. “Please, please don’t tell them! My daddy... he’d be so mad and... and... he would take the strap to me for sure. Please, Dr. Ellen, please don’t tell them.”
“It’s all right, Sarah, calm down. I won’t tell anyone. That’s up to you. What about your boyfriend? Bobby Joe, you said his name was?”
“Yes... that’s his name. But... I don’t want to tell him, either. He broke up with me right after we... well, after we... ” She nervously wiped her hand on her skirt. “He’s got him another girlfriend now.”
“What do you want to do? Do you have plans after you give birth?”
“Well, I was hoping maybe you could help me... there’s people that want babies, ain’t there?”
“You mean you want to give your baby up for adoption?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Yes, Sarah, there are people who want babies. You can place your baby with an adoption agency and they'll find a family for him or her. But... well, I do know of a couple who haven't been able to have a baby of their own. They'd like very much to adopt a baby. They'd be very good parents and would give a baby a good home. Do you like me to talk to them?”
“Could you do that, Dr. Ellen?”
“Yes, Sarah, I can do that, and I will. Go home now and come back next month for another check-up. I’ll let you know then if this will work out. But Sarah, you really should think about telling your folks. You aren’t showing much now, but it’s going to be hard to hide this much longer.”
“I can do it,” Sarah said with resolve. “Nobody’s gonna find out.”
“That’s up to you. Now, you need to drink milk and eat lots of fruits and vegetables. Get plenty of exercise, and plenty of sleep. You need to take care of yourself and your baby.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Sarah got up to leave, but stopped at the door and looked back at Ellen over her shoulder. “Thank you Dr. Ellen.”
Ellen watched the girl close the door behind her before opening the desk drawer and pulling out the paper with the Thomas’ information on it. She looked at it for a long time, thinking. Sarah Odem looked nothing like Lucille Thomas, but they did have the same hair and eye color. Underneath her sunburn, Sarah was fair-skinned like Lucille. But whether the baby looked like either of them or not was none of Ellen’s concern. They wanted a baby and if they were going to tell people it was their own child, then that was up to them. Ellen dialed the number for the bank and asked for Mr. Eugene Thomas III.
“Mr. Thomas,’ she said when he came on the line. “This is Dr. Goodman. I think I have a baby for you.”
It was not the boy Mr. Thomas had hoped for. On a cold January night, Sarah Odem gave birth to a healthy baby girl. Once she cleaned the baby, Ellen called the Thomas’ and an hour later, she handed the baby, tightly bundled in a pink blanket, to Eugene Thomas. He handed her an envelope and walked back to his car with his new daughter.
Ellen never saw the couple in her office again, but she would run into them socially on occasion over the years. A week after the birth she saw an announcement in the newspaper.
“Mr. and Mrs. Eugene Thomas III announce the birth of their daughter, Linda Louise Thomas... .”