sunshine boy

sunshine boy

SARAH ROGERS

— ellis island, new york, 1918 —

The New York skyline emerged from the fog as the boat approached to the bustling city. The first thing Sarah saw was the Statue of Liberty was a modern day Saint Peter posted at the Heaven’s Gates. She stood proud and majestic, her torch-bearing arm held high. The others on the boat all gasped when the dull light of the hidden sun hit her, illuminating her in a way that stood out against the promise of a new life. The whispers and shouts of joy filled the deck, everyone jumping to their feet to rush to the railing to get a better look at the skyline.

The commotion woke up the baby in her arms, his small face twitching in discomfort as his small arm wiggled out of the blanket to wave around. Bright blue eyes landed on her face, a whine already falling past his lips. She cooed the child quietly, “You’re alright, my sunshine,”. The infant merely yawned and closed his eyes, drifting to sleep against her breast to dreams of grandeur. Her fingers danced across his brow, smoothing down the fine blonde hair.

A twinge of discomfort settled in her stomach while looking down at the gorgeous infant in her arms. Her own baby was taken by the war, miscarried at the cuspus of a second term before she could even announce her pregnancy to the love of her life. This child had not even one drop of blood that was either hers nor her husband, a child orphaned not two minutes after birth. Still, she pressed a kiss to his forehead and pulled the blanket up higher to protect his head from the American cold. “That’s it. Just rest, my sunshine boy. We’ll be alright,” she whispered, and gazed at the land before them as the sounds of promises grew louder, “I swear it,”

“How old?”

Sarah startled and turned, coming nose to nose with an young dark woman. Her hair was limp with tangled curls and her dress had seen better days, but her face was smooth and a sweet smile that almost lifted Sarah’s own lips. The woman’s hand drifted down to rub her large middle. “This is my first,” the woman chuckled in a thick accent, “I know almost nothing about babies,”

The blonde smiled, angling her body to show the sleepy baby to the woman. “He’s two weeks,” Sarah cleared her throat, “A tad bit small, but got a good set of lungs on ‘em”

The woman nodded, rubbing her stomach soothingly and looked at Sarah for permission. Nodding to her, the young stranger stepped closer to the bundle in the nurse’s arms. Her delicate hands pulled back the blanket from under Steven’s chin, letting out a gentle “oh” when she laid eyes on him. “He is beautiful,” the young woman sighed, “You and your husband are very lucky,”

Sarah didn’t have the heart to tell her - to burst the bubble that even Sarah herself had fallen into in believing that the child was hers, the perfect combination of herself and Joseph, but the reality that the child was an orphan that Sarah is smuggling into America. A child born into a world so wrought with death and war that it pried him from both parents. A child with no country.

Sarah smiled, but it felt forced and wooden. “Thank you. He takes after his father,”

“Diana? Dear?”

The room was a lovely bedroom that was completely adorned with white. From the curtains, to the sheets, to the gown worn by the woman in the bed, it was all bathed in a gorgeous minimalist canvas that had Sarah’s fingers itching to paint. The plump woman that lead her to the apartment was wringing her hands nervously, biting her lips as she came to stand by the other woman’s side. “Oh thank goodness! I found a nurse, dear,” she muttered, laying a hand on the brunnette woman’s shoulder.

The spot between her legs was damp, colored in a pink tint. Her beautiful features were strained in discomfort, and her hair was a messy array of ebony that fell into curls down her shoulders. She peered up at Sarah through long eyelashes that fanned her cheeks with a slight pinch between her eyebrows. All in all, the woman before was possibly one of the most attractive women Sarah Rogers had ever seen in her life — even though she had a swollen stomach the size of a ripe and ready watermelon.

Frowning, Sarah rushed over to her side as quick as her tired feet could take her. “Etta! You didn’t tell me it was a pregnant woman!” when the young nurse spoke, she felt the slight tinge of her accent against her tongue that felt foreign compared to that of Etta. Sarah laid a soft hand onto Diana’s forehead, “You’re having a baby, and she leaves you on your own!”

Somewhere to the corner, there’s a huff and the annoyed accented voice of Etta remarking, “I had to find help, didn’t I?! You’d think there’d be a decent midwife in London, of all places!”

The blonde nurse rolled her eyes. “Well, you found me,” her fingers dug into the taunt flesh of the exposed stomach, feeling around firmly on the sides. Diana watched her closely. Be it the year she has spend in the world of men or her newfound motherly instinct, Diana seemed to be volatile towards anyone who neared her stomach. Sarah paid no mind to it - although not quite a midwife, she remembered seeing the occasional woman on the streets of Ireland batting her hand away whenever the blonde reached towards them. She turned towards the other woman, the energy from the corner of the room was making it hard to concentrate. “Etta, do be a dear and go fetch me some hot water and towels,” the woman smiled, still feeling around for the baby.

“Of course!” Etta said, perking up instantly, “Oh, do try to hold off on the delivery! I don’t want to miss seeing the precious girl,”

The moment that Etta was out of the room, the nurse stopped moving her hands and removed the diamond ring that adorned her finger. Sarah dropped the ring in the pocket of her dress, opened her bag silently, and dug around for a good moment before slipping on a pair of sterile medical gloves. “We weren’t properly introduced,” she held her hand out, tired eyes barely staying open. When Diana’s hands stayed on the sides of her bump, the blonde lowered her hand, “My name is Sarah Rogers,”

“Diana. Diana Prince,”

“Nice to meet you,” Sarah nodded, moving from near Diana’s stomach towards the foot of the bed. The cool air must’ve felt uncomfortable when Sarah lifted the blanket up and checked between Diana’s legs as the woman twitched. The brunette swallowed hard, ignoring the discomfort in favor of looking at the still-ticking watch on the night stand until the nurse finished her brief examination. “I’d say you’re about five centimeters! Halfway there, darlin’,”

There was a pause, then after what seemed like hours later — probably five minutes at most - Sarah spoke again, “Do you already have a name picked out?”

Diana smiled, “Hippolyta, after my mother,”

“That’s a beautiful name,” Sarah said, “It has an elegant ring to it,”

Diana said nothing further, and Sarah was finding it hard not to fidget in the silence. She was never really fond of it. Back in Dublin, it was rare that she wouldn’t be out in the bustling night life of the town with her arms intertwined with her friends, giggling flirtatiously at the young men who smiled like wolves as the mere scent of their perfumes. She remembered dancing with so many men, for so many hours, that her shoes would wear on the cobblestones and would spend the next day next to her mother fixing the soles.

Speaking of which , Sarah hummed a small note to get Diana’s attention. “My mother’s name is Granuaile. It means ‘female pirate’, and you’d believe it,” Sarah continued with a laugh, “I always liked the tradition of namin’ your babe after your mother, but … Granuaile? It sounds a bit harsh, don’t you think?”

Diana didn’t answer, so Sarah pressed her lips into a thin line as she got to organizing her things. It all sounded too loud in the room as the instruments shifted against each other — metallic and hard. When the young woman was done, she moved back to checking back on the process of the baby to which she delightfully announced, “Eight centimeters! Almost there, dear,”

It wasn’t until Sarah announced it that Diana suddenly felt the sharpening pain that seemed to increased with each passing moment. The nurse made quick to grab the damp washcloth from the dresser and started to dab the small beads of sweat from Diana’s temple. “Oh, you poor darling, you’re doing amazing,” the blonde tried to encourage, but she closed her mouth with a soft click when Diana gave a small cry. She felt useless to help the woman. Maybe she could ring for someone more experienced in childbirth ?

“Where is the father?” Sarah   prodded , wringing the cloth over a basin of water on the nightstand. “I’d hate to have him miss this,”

Diana didn’t reply right away, and if her eyes began to mist, Sarah told herself it was just from the labour. “He’s among the stars,” was all she said and Sarah understood.

There was tense pause in the room, one that made Sarah's skin prickle with discomfort and sent chills running down her body. She took in a shaky breath, plastering on a sad smile. “... So is my Joseph,”

The reality of the statement came baring down on Sarah like a freezing rainstorm. Dear Lord, she hadn’t even considered that as a possibility. She wasn’t the only one who lost someone in the war — much less had to bear a child without them by her side. Diana licked her lips before asking, “How long were you ...?”

“My entire life,”

“Did … did you have children?”

“Almost,” Sarah ignored Diana’s glazing eyes as Diana ignored Sarah’s. The blonde sniffed, her eyes trained on her finger where her ring usually resided, “I … my beautiful Joseph died before I could’ve told him and then suddenly … there was nothin’ worth telling,”

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to any of them. It wasn’t fair that Diana lost the one thing that she cherished more than anything, and it wasn’t fair that Sarah had to experience two losses so close to one another. The war took so much from so many all because a pathetic dick measuring contest was more important than the lives of human beings. Those heartless people decided that the final goodbye between two star-crossed lovers was to be their last moments of happiness, and they decided that Diana was to have her child completely alone. There was no stopping a war once the seed had been planted, but Sarah would give almost anything to go back in time to uproot the entire thing before it grew more.

“I can’t imagine what it’s like to lose two parts of your soul,” Diana said in a hushed tone. The nurse sighed with a small smile, a shaking hand rose to wipe a tear from her eye.

“It hurts, but …” A pause. “Joseph would’ve wanted me to help anyone I can, especially in times like these,”

Diana reached out to hold Sarah’s, squeezing it tightly in comforting gesture. Another contraction hits, and both women couldn’t have been more thankful for the distraction.

The sun was nothing more than a dying blaze of gold and shadows when Diana gave a final Earth-shattering push that finally expelled the baby out. A small, fragile little thing, the baby barely made a noise as Sarah got to work on wiping its mouth and nose of blood and placenta . She only had a few seconds to wrap the baby up and clamp the umbilical cord before she returned to pressing her fingers deep into Diana’s stomach hard enough to help the placenta pass. It only took a few pushes before it came out, and Sarah smiled wide. “You did it! Diana, you did amazing!”

The brunette finally threw her head back in exhaustion, her chest heaving as she panted up towards the ceiling. Sarah allowed the new mother the few moments of peace, instead choosing to turn her attention to the quiet baby before her. She snipped the cord to separate baby and placenta .

Small, skinny, and curled up, the baby wasn’t by far like the ones she was use to seeing in books and in person. Its little mouth was open, yet no shrill cries came out. Sarah gingerly took the sensitive foot in her hand and hit the soles just hard enough for it to get a reaction. She continued to do so — her heart frozen dead in her chest — before the baby final gave out a whail into the the early evening of London. The cries gave him a pit of color now, rosey in the cheeks and flushed all the way down to its small chest — his small chest. Sarah laughed, surprised to find salty tears sliding down her cheeks as she picked up the baby to hold him against her chest. “Diana, I think you might wan’ta rethink that name! It’s a boy!” she cried out over the baby’s cries.

Looking up, she found Diana was looking at the baby with a smile so wide and genuine that the dying sun paled in comparison. “A … a boy?” she breathed quietly, her hands reaching towards Sarah, “May I hold him?”

Sarah nodded excitedly. She got up from her spot on the bed and moved to stand near Diana, bouncing the baby gently in her arms. Now that the sun has caught on the baby, Sarah realized just how beautiful he was. Perfectly sculpted cherub cheeks, fine brown hair, and a comically handsome big nose all amounted into the child’s delicate looks that would one day have every woman in England tripping over themselves.

She passed the newborn over to his mother and immediately felt the absence of the weight from her arms. Like she was missing a piece. Stop being dramatic, Sarah, she thought, don’t go ruining a happy moment, now.

Diana held the baby to her chest and cooed at his small face, a slight laugh and sob coming out of her as she stared down at her son. Tears collected at the corners of her blue eyes, the wind being knocked out of her as the baby opened his eyes to reveal a slightly brighter shade of blue that Sarah had never seen before. It must’ve been significant, thought, because the moment she saw them, Diana completely unleashed the ball of emotions that was penting up in her chest. The tears ran freely down her cheeks. “Oh my gods …” she whispered, looking down at the rest of the naked babe, “You’re perfect. Everything about you is- you’re perfect,”

The moment was so intimate that Sarah couldn’t bring herself to watch - but the hard lump in her throat and the feeling of having something missing obligated her to watch the first of many talks between a boy and his mother. Diana lowered her forehead against the baby’s, sobbing and whispering psalm-like prayers against the boy’s noise. “I love you,” she said in a voice that Sarah wasn’t meant to hear, “I love you so much,”

Hearing the words spoken in such a way finally allowed Sarah to move, and she got to work on gathering her utensils. She wiped them down with the cloth from earlier, a small satisfied feeling in her heart shining as she sent them inside her bag. In that moment, Etta finally chose to come back inside the room holding the towels and hot basin of water and an angry grimace on her soft face. “What did I tell you, Diana?! You went and had the little lamb without me! Christ, a woman steps out for a moment and all the sudden ...”

Diana either didn’t hear her or chose to ignore Etta, her lips still moving in silent promises over the smooth skin of her son. The boy’s lips moved as they took in a giant gulp of breath. His hand curled around the loose dark curl of his mother — a beautiful contrast of pale and dark. Now, Sarah hasn’t opened up a Bible since her younger years when she was just a little girl in church, but the scene before her looked almost exactly like the stained glass windows of the church portraying the Virgin Mary holding the infant Jesus — both adorned with golden halos and bathed in the glow of royalty . Sarah made sure to capture the image in her head.

“The little fella was too eager to meet mum,” Sarah chirped in from her spot beside the dresser, “He gave us a fright at first, but he seems to be right as rain now,”

Etta’s smile suddenly dropped. Her eyes widened as she looked between Diana and Sarah, then at the baby before back to Diana. “He? It’s a boy?” she breathed, and the only reply she got was Diana’s tear nod as she squeezed the small hand of her son. Etta frowned. “Oh, Diana,”

Sarah felt the atmosphere shift from joyous to serious in only a matter of seconds. The golden hue of the room turned dim, the faces of the other two woman paled as they gazed upon the baby. A chill ran across the room that had Sarah shivering. “I know you had your heart set on the name, but there could always be another babe,” she said, scratching at the place between her thumb and pointer finger, “I’m sure grandma won’t have an issue,”

“It’s … it’s not the name that’s the issue,” Etta drawled out, straightening up, “Boys aren’t exactly welcomed in Diana’s country,”

She couldn’t help the disbelieving laugh that came out of her. It was ridiculous, could you blame her? She had never heard of such a thing. Perhaps if the country had strict laws against women, then she’d be able to believe that more than a country that simply didn’t welcome men or boys. “That cannot be true. What country doesn’t allow boys?”

“Themyscira,” Looking to Diana, the young nurse found that she was staring at her with an intensity that could melt her on the spot and a tight jaw. The sun has died out by now, the only light in the room came from the last remaining rays that were dulling by the second, yet Diana still glowed as if the sun were still shining up on her. “Home of the Amazons,”

Sarah’s stomach dropped down to her ankles.

“Amazons? No, those- Diana, Amazons are just from stories, they aren’t real,”

“So are the Gods, and the legends that the Greeks built an entire civilization on,” Diana said, voice strong and unwavering , “Themyscira is real, Mrs. Rogers. I would know. I’m their Princess,”

It was apparent that Diana must’ve suffered hysteria in her grief for the baby’s father. She’s seen it happen, almost fell for it herself. The pain and the lonely eventually manifested deep into the spouse’s self- conscious until it slowly overwhelmed them completely. Sarah was lucky enough to be a nurse - constantly having to be around people and her mind having to race with worry for others. The hysteria hadn’t gripped her as tight, only coming close when she miscarried. Yet again, Sarah was never one to stay down.

A small voice in the back of Sarah’s mind told her that she had to protect the child. Feign a procedure and take the child as far from the woman as possible. She has seen what the outcome of growing up with a hysterical woman can do to a child’s mind — she’ll be damned if she’ll stand by and let it happen again. But, unfortunately, another voice told her that she cannot separate mother and son. If anything, it’ll be another stepping stone into the madness gripped onto Diana. So, she chose a different route and appealed to Etta.

“Etta. Please, don’t indulge her in her delusions . It’ll only make it wor-”

A bang from the nightstand had Sarah jump back. Diana’s fist splintered a dent into the hardwood that the nurse recognized as oak. It’s impossible. Oak was the strongest wood that existed, it couldn’t be possible for someone to be able to dent it — much less a postpartum woman. The golden cuffs around Diana’s wrists glowed bright enough to illuminate half the room, and Sara found herself once more believing the stories her grandmother use to tell her as a child.

“Wha- what the fuck are you?!” she cried, backing up until her back slammed up against the door of the bedroom. Etta clicked her tongue at her language, but in that moment, Sarah couldn’t give a rat’s ass what Etta thought.

Diana squared her shoulders. “I am Diana of Themyscira, daughter of Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons, and daughter of Zeus, King of the Gods,” the last part of the sentence was directed at the newborn in her arms, the small bundle that looked no different from a normal mortal child. The baby cooed.

Sarah’s mind, once again, skipped like a record with a scratch as long as her forearm. Her mouth stood agap, speechless as she stared at the three occupying the same room as her. “You— I— Did I just deliver a demigod?” was all that she could get out, fingers nearly skinning the skin between her thumb and pointer finger.

Etta piped up again, reminding Sarah of her presence in the room also, “Well, uh, technically speaking Diana here is the demigod and Mr. Trevor - God rest his soul - was a human,” her eyes traveled to the ceiling, rubbing her hands together, “As you can imagine, such a, uh, union has never been observed so the child would either be mortal, full god, or something in between. We just plum aren’t sure,”

The thick silence was enough to have Sarah choking as it settled in the room, feeling moggy and dense. She didn’t dare move from her spot near the door, especially since she didn’t know exactly what Diana would do to her if she tried to flee now and possibly contact the authorities. However, a loud sob and whimper shattered the silence. All eyes were on Diana now as the goddess — a fucking goddess — started to cry and whispering, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,”. She turned to look at Sarah. “He’s too small. An amazon or a god would be bigger than this,”

“Oh, we can fix that! Just ought to feed him a little more, is all,” Etta nervously chimed , standing at the bedside awkwardly. Unfortunately, the new mother didn’t believe what Etta was telling her as she shook her head at her before looking back to Sarah.

“I can’t take care of him. Not while Doctor Ivy or her associates are still out there,” Diana let out a shaky breath, “He needs to be far, far from here. The only way I can protect him is by keeping him as far from me as possible,”

“Diana—”

“No,” the mother’s voice came out hard and stern, determination sparking a fire in her eyes, “Sarah, I need to do what’s best for him. I can’t take him back to Themyscira, and I can’t keep him,” she paused and swallowed. Then said the words that Sarah thanked God she never had to utter herself in her young life, “I need you to take him,”

There was an uproar of hushed arguing between Etta and Diana — the nurse being too stunned to really participate. Lord, she felt like her heart was going to burst from all the information she was soaking up at the moment. She heard the conversation between the two in short bursts, the words “trust” and “met” being thrown around. Sarah didn’t know what was more outrageous; the fact that she was in the presence of a goddess, or that she was actually considering taking the child.

All her life, she imagined her future to include a happy family living in a lovely cottage back in her hometown in Ireland. She fantasized about days spent knitting near a fireplace, children playing near her feet, a sweet husband sitting next to her reading a book with a hand touching her arm. The picture use to be so vivid up until she met Joseph, and then the picture turned into idealized visions of America — the glamour, the exciting opportunities. The cottage turned into a home, a faceless husband turned into Joseph, and her Irish traditions became new traditions created together. She was so sure her life was going to be perfect.

But then the war came, an ideological promise of glory and honor that ensnared Joseph Rogers into enlisting to one day pass down the pride to his children. He promised her he’d be back. She promised herself that she was going to tell him about their baby when he got back. They were going to live together in a home with Tiffany lamps and polished silverware .

Then a cloud of gold swept through the trenches, and Joseph was found with his wife’s photo between blistered fingers.

“I’ll do it,”

Etta and Diana silenced. The watch on the nightstand ticked like Big Ben in the quiet. Sarah cleared her throat. “I’ll do it,” she said, “I- I helped my aunt with her kids, and I’m versed in basic infant care,” she paused, her hands clasped together over her lips, “Diana, I will do right by you,”

Etta sighed loudly, wiping her brow with a handkerchief . Sarah continued , “When I lost my own babe, it— … it took me a week just to get out of my own bed. I spent three months of my life preparing for a babe that was already gone. I’d give anything to have a babe,”

Diana chewed her lip, looking down at her son for the longest time before she spoke again. “Give me two weeks with him. You’ll have until then to get your affairs in order. Etta will make the arrangements - all you have to do is show up to take him,” she sounded confident in her decree, but Sarah didn’t miss the way her voice broke at the end of her sentence as she gently patted the baby’s back. “I’m entrusting you with my whole heart. Do not let me down, Mrs. Rogers,”

“I won’t,” the nurse breathed. A voice in her head started screaming at her idiocy for accepting to adopt the child, yet all Sarah saw the beautiful face of her soon-to-be son. If she hadn’t delivered the child herself, she’d think he was a marble statue that came to life with the touch of his mother. Bright blue eyes, he blinked at her before falling back into a blissful sleep. She didn’t even know she had reached for him until she felt a strong hand wrapped around her own.

Diana’s eyes were hard. Missing all the emotion from seconds before, her voice came out more as a growl than the husky yet smooth tenure from before. Her grip was tight around Sarah’s wrist. “Don’t take him unless you mean it,”

The two women stared at each other. Even dressed in the white nightgown, Diana looked like she was ready to fight an entire army of Germans from the comfort of her bed and win; child against her chest and all. She could move mountains just from the echo of her voice. Everything about the woman screamed “goddess” . Though, Sarah has never been known to back down from a challenge . She squared her shoulders back, puffed out her chest, and used all her might to pull her wrist away from Diana.

“I would use my own body as a shield before I let any harm come to ‘em,”

Pleased to hear that, Diana nodded. “There’s one more condition,” she said slowly, speaking towards her son but talking to Sarah, “Name him after his father. He may have your surname, but I want him to be named after the loveliest thing to grace this Earth before him,”

Sarah sighed, taking her cap off for the first time since that morning when she woke up ready for an uneventful day in the hospital. “I will,”

The ship docked at a port that Sarah was far too engrossed in her son to notice the name of. The hundreds of other immigrants cheered and embraced each other, paying no mind to the thin woman weaving through the crowd. The commotion was causing many children to wail out in discomfort, and there were shouts of many languages that Sarah can only vaguely identify as ‘not-English’. No matter. She had to grab her baggage - three pairs of dresses, her uniform, basic toiletries, and essentials for the baby - and rush as quickly as she could to the pier .

The immigrants from the ship all followed a strict and thick line towards the the opposite direction of the pier, but with boots that had long since worn her soles down to near nothing, Sarah rushed over to the Customs line before anyone was the wiser. Well, even if she had heard a male voice shouting “Ma’am? Ma’am!”, whomever it was lost her in the amount of bodies by now. She couldn’t bother with him. In her pocket, she held the most important document needed for her and the boy to start a new life in America, away from the dangers that Diana warned her of when she gave up her only son.

Thankfully the line moved quick, and Sarah was able to avoid having to lay the boy down on the ground to change his nappie. Other children cried and complained about the heat, but her boy merely slept. She couldn’t help the small smile that curled on her lips as she gazed up on his resting face. “That’s my boy,” she whispered, “Ma will get us out of the sun faster than you can wrinkle your nose,”

The man standing at the makeshift desk at Customs was a tall, lanky, older gentleman with suspenders that would’ve given away his discomfort of the heat if the bead of sweat on his temple didn’t already. His specks were thin, giving his face a more professional and put together look overall. Sarah smiled wide, and his cheeks flushed. “Good afternoon, ma’am. Business or pleasure?” he said, voice deep yet bored.

“Oh, just coming back from visiting my mother,” strange how her lips move and her brain automatically pushes out rehearsed words without her meaning to, “Poor plannin’ too. Thought I’d pop in and say hello, introduce her to her grandson, is all,”

Another smile, and the man nodded, “I see. May I see proof that you are in fact an American citizen?”

She dug into her pocket, long fingers flipping open the folded marriage license with her name next to Joseph’s. Thank God she married an American. The officer hummed, raising an eyebrow at her. “And where’s your husband?”

“Back in London. He’ll be joining us soon - just had some business to attend to,”

“Very well,” he said, then continues to ask if Sarah was carrying any fruits, vegetables, the works. This time she was allowed to answer honestly, finally being able to relax for the first time since meeting the baby. He cooed, and Sarah shushed him gently. The officer seemed to interpret the coo to mean that the boy was getting uncomfortable in the late July heat. He cleared his throat, and wrote something down. “One last thing, Mrs. Rogers, then you’ll be free to go,”

“So soon? I thought we were going to chat a little more,” she laughed, resting her free hand on his arm. The man grinned, distracted enough to forget to ask for further proof of residency. No one could ever say that Sarah didn’t know how to distract a man using her charm.

“Now, now, none of that,” he beamed, “I’ll just need to see the birth certificate of the child,”

“Yes, of course,” she dug deeper into her pocket, willing her hand to not shake. She prayed to every Saint she could think of, recited as many prayers as she could remember in hopes that one would listen. All her faith was now in the hands of a piece of paper that Etta was able to forge for them before she left London. A birth certificate - listing Sarah and Joseph as the infant’s parents, detailing that the baby was indeed born in Brooklyn, New York. It looked authentic, thanks to Sarah’s connections at the hospital since Dr. Miller did owe her a favor after she caught him in a supply closet with someone what wasn’t Mrs. Miller. Etta was able to take it a few steps beyond by incorporating the address of a real Brooklyn hospital near her and the baby’s new apartment.

She presented the document to the man, smile tight and gripping her baby a little too hard when the child started to fuss. His eyes roamed between the marriage license and the birth certificate, humming a tune as if the moment wasn’t one of the most stressful of Sarah’s life. When he didn’t speak after a full minute, Sarah already started running down Plan B, Plan C, all the way to Plan G.

Thankfully, due to whatever God or Saint listening, the man lowered the papers with a full smile and handed both back to Sarah. “Everything looks to be in order. Congratulations, by the way,” he waved to the baby, almost close enough to kiss the baby if he wanted to, “Welcome home, Steven Grant Rogers,”