"From Out of the Cold" Chapter 4

Twenty-Five Years Earlier

A dignified, professional gentleman, cloaked in a long, expensive topcoat against the chill of a damp late September day, escorted a woman wearing a nurse's cap, a dark cape that was a few inches shorter than her white dress, and antiseptic white stockings, up the walk to the front door of a large Victorian building. The woman cradled a carefully wrapped infant in her arms.

The gentleman reached for the door and knocked exactly three times. In a few moments, a middle-aged woman, who appeared to fit the personality of this house rather well, answered the door. She greeted the visitors, not with words, but with an icy, determined expression that rivaled the grayness of the day. She stood before them squarely in the doorway, impeccably erect, hands clasped at her waist, right hand over left. Her eyes implored one or the other of the people standing on her porch to immediately state their business. The fact that a baby was also in her presence did not mover her to permit any of the three entrance.

"Good day, Mrs. Hester," the man said removing his fedora. "As you can see, we have an infant for whom we desperately need to find care, at least temporarily."

Thus Mrs. Hester shifted her gaze from the gentleman to the bundle in the nurse's arms. There was still no offer of respite from the cold.

"What are the circumstances, Mr. Morton?" Mrs. Hester requested with a touch of impatience when it appeared that he was not going to volunteer the information.

"A most unfortunate situation indeed, Mrs. Hester. The mother simply walked out of the hospital unannounced and abandoned this poor child. She left him right in the nursery when she departed two weeks ago. Efforts by the authorities to locate her have failed and she never identified the father. At this point, we have no where else to turn but to you."

"Very well, Mrs. Hester finally conceded. "Bring him in."

Mrs. Hester moved aside to let them enter and turned to face a doorway across the hall. "Millicent!" she called and almost instantaneously a young woman half ran into the room, hastily wiping her hands on her apron and giving her superior her undivided attention.

"You will be responsible for this infant," Mrs. Hester commanded. "Take him upstairs and prepare his room now."

The young woman relieved the nurse of her burden and lightly tiptoed up the stairs, smiling earnestly as she gazed into the baby's face.

"Have you named him?" Mrs. Hester abruptly turned her attention back to the gentleman.

"No, we haven't. We're content to let you do that. His mother's last name was Sloane. Here are the birth certificate and other papers that must be completed. We thank you, Mrs. Hester."

She took the papers and saw the visitors out without so much as a gratuitous good-bye.

Mrs. Hester employed a simple process for naming those who came into her charge orphaned at infancy. Proceeding directly to her desk, she sat down comfortably, but most properly, and reached for her Bible. This being the ninth month, corresponding alphabetically to the letter "I", she turned to "Isaiah," the first book in the Old Testament beginning with that letter. It was the eighth day and the hour was two o'clock. She found chapter 8, verse 2. This one sentence provided her with three choices: Uriah, Zechariah, and Jeberechiah. Immediately she discounted the first two, for no better reason than she didn't like them. That left her with one alternative, but its length disturbed her. She she bluntly shortened it to the first three letters. That is what he will be called, she mused, Jeb Sloane, and she entered that name onto the birth certificate.