Jean closed the door to her classic red convertible VW bug and looked over the ragtop at the orphanage. The intricately carved arched entryway spoke to the age of the building. Her blue eyes surveyed the dark red brick of the ancient building, and she noticed it was cracked and crumbling in some places. It made Jean a little wary of walking through the eroding archway.  The orphanage stretched out from both directions of the entryway and branched off into two v-shaped wings.  Enclosed by a cast iron gate the property occupied an entire city block.
 She ran her tanned fingers nervously through her graying hair as she carefully navigated the cracked cobblestone walkway leading to the building. The ancient oak trees that dotted the grounds were lush and beautiful this time of year. Yet, Jean couldn’t help but to imagine how creepy they would look on a gloomy winter’s day, with leafless branches stretching towards the windows, specifically the two that nearly dwarfed the entryway.  The contrast of beauty and darkness was unnerving. It's like something out of The Omen, she thought.
As she drew closer, two windows on either side of the entrance came into view and she glimpsed several little faces peering out of the windows from behind thick dark curtains. Some of the children appeared to be whispering amongst themselves.  The thought crossed her mind that each of the children in the window was hoping she was there to take them home and saddened her heart.

The Sacred Heart Orphanage housed approximately six hundred children from newborns to high school seniors. The dorms grew in size in direct proportion to the age of the children housed there. The nursery was the smallest, as most families wanted a baby, so it was very rare to find more than two or three babies there at any given time.  The older children were much harder to find homes for, having spent so many years in the orphanage - or worse yet, the children orphaned during adolescence. These children languish at the orphanage because prospective perspective parents were aware the older children carried more baggage than the garbage bags they used to tote their belongings. Many of the older children simply would never adjust well within a nuclear family, and therefore they stayed until they reached the age of emancipation.
                Jean wrapped her hand around the old brass door handle and tugged the heavy oak door open. The sterile smell of a hospital ward floated past her nose as the cool air rushed out to meet the heat of the day. She had hoped a building that housed so many children would smell of cookies and play dough. She shook her head sadly; No child belongs in a place like this. As the door swooshed closed behind her, a well-dressed blonde woman strode toward her with a stack of files in hand.
                “Hello, Jean! We’ve met briefly before. My name is Lynn.  I’m Jennifer’s assistant. She’s talking with one of the children right now, but if you could just have a seat, she’ll be with you shortly. Here are Echo’s files, you can look at them while you’re waiting,” she said all in one breath. She led Jean to a waiting area and dropped the stack of files on a square coffee table surrounded by three couches and a chair. Before Jean could say “thank you,” Lynn jaunted off down the hallway, whistling a catchy little children’s song.
 

Echo was one of the orphans who had lived at Sacred Heart since she was an infant. Now five years old, her chances of being adopted were diminishing quickly. Yet, Jean knew the moment she saw her picture in the orphanage’s online photo album that this was the child meant for her. Jean had endured years of intrusive interviews and background checks before she was allowed to view the website. After receiving her user name and password to access the database, she had spent months viewing hundreds of heartrending photographs, searching for the little girl of her dreams. She would never forget the day Echo’s familiar face had surfaced from the pool of solemn faces.

#

Today I am going to get a new mommy,” Echo told her mousy roommate Natalie, “My angel came to me in a dream last night and told me.”

Although Natalie was the smallest of the girls on the pre-school dorm, she was the oldest and she was not afraid to speak her mind. “You are crazy Echo! Me and you, we’re too old to get picked. Mommies and Daddies want little babies, so they can pretend the mommy really got it from the hospital. You ‘member? Big Missy told us that on the playground right before she pushed you down.”

“Yeah…I ‘member, but I been here since I was a baby and nobody adopted me then, so people must not only want babies. Mark and Jason got picked and they were six,” Echo said indignantly. She tossed her long, straight black hair over her shoulder as she turned to walk away.

“But Mark and Jason were twins. People like special kids like that.” And besides, you’re an Indian. Natalie knew not to say it aloud because Sister Maria had told her not to say thing about people’s races. Sister Maria said that people are sensitive about their race. Sister Maria told her that when someone is sensitive about something it means it makes them mad or hurts their feelings.

“I’m special too! My angel tells me all the time!” Echo yelled at Natalie. She stomped her foot and ran from the room, slamming the door behind her.

"Yes ma'am, I'm not sure who I need to speak with, but I have some information abut a Native American child who is about to be adopted. The thing is, I happen to know her tribe was never notified of her existence and need for guardianship when she was orphaned.
"Do you know what tribe she belongs to?"

"I'm not sure, but I have her biological mother's name, maybe she is on a list or something? Her suicide note specifically mentioned a reservation."

She heard the lady at the Preservation of the Native American Families sigh deeply, "Ok ma'am, can I take your name and number and I will have an intake worker call you back to get all of the information we need from you."

She tapped her finger rapidly on her desk calendar, as she glanced around her office, and all the possible places someone may be able to hear her. The vent above the books shelf, the gap under the door, the open window that was letting a cool breeze flow through her office. It took all she had not to hang up the phone, "No ma'am, that won't work for me. I need to remain anonymous. I just...can I just call you back and get the number for the intake worker who is assigned to my case? Please, I can't take any chances, my whole life would...look, it would be really bad for me if anyone found out I made this call."

"Fine, Fine," again, her exasperated exhale quite audible, "this is not how we normally do things, but under the circumstances. Call this same number tomorrow and ask for me, my name is Amanda.

"Oh! Thank you! Thank you so much. Bye now!" She hung up and looked at the phone. Oh lord, what can of worms have I opened? Oh well, can't take it back now, hey probably have my phone number recorded. May as well finish what I started. Her shoulders lifted and fell as she executed an Amanda worthy sigh. She then turned towards her computer and pulled out the keyboard shelf and logged onto her computer. For a moment, she considered the possible negative repercussions to her action. Everything in the office was a direct representation of the last 15 years of her work at the orphanage. If she were caught stirring up all these problems she could be asked to leave, and all of this would be for naught. Yet she chose to keep the ball rolling. She pulled up an internet browser and clicked the button to create a new email account only to be left staring at the screen as she pondered what her anonymous name would be. It has to be something that won't make them send it to the spam folder, but it can't be anything too obvious or it will lead them straight to me. She looked around her office and her eyes fell on a book in her library entitled Looking for Lost Bird and in that moment knew the perfect username for its purpose. She typed "lost_bird" into the box on the screen labeled username and said a little prayer before clicking on the next arrow. Yes! It's available, just one more sign that what I am doing is right.  She finished the process of signing up and clicked on the compose button before she was interrupted by a frantic rapping on her heavy office door.

Now, who would have the gall, the utter audacity to knock on my closed office door like the place was on fire? As she passed the mirror on her wall she saw a very scornful woman full of venom and and anger. It stopped her in her tracks and she took a few steps back and looked at the angry woman in the mirror. Her old supervisor would chastise her when she looked like this in the past. The memory of her voice was especially loud in that moment, "Your station requires a smile and a sunny disposition young lady, now take a deep breath and pull yourself together." With that, she took a deep breath, pasted a mile on her face, tugged on the hem of her shirt, and opened the door too a meek little staffer on who appeared to preparing to knock again, her tiny fist suspended midair.

"Yes?" her eyebrows arched in question above her pasted on smile made the young girl look at her as though she questioned her sanity. She adjusted her face slowly until the girl relaxed a bit. "What do you need dear?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you but we couldn't reach you on the radio."

"That's because I was taking my lunch in my office and had turned off my radio so as not to be disturbed. Apparently, that didn't work, but get on with it, what is so urgent?"

"Again, I'm sorry, but Echo has wandered off again, and we can't find her, and her forever Mommy is going to be here any minute! What are we going to do?"

" You are going to take a deep breath and get back to the unit. I'm going to be right behind you as soon as I log off of my computer." She watched as the girl took a deep shuddering breath and turned to wall hurriedly towards the unit Echo had lived on for the last year or so. She rolled her eyes to the ceiling, "Sweet Jesus, this child is going to be the death of me. She logged off of her computer checking twice to make sure it required a password to get back in. She couldn't risk some nosie ninny accidently discovering what she was up to, they would all know in good time, but that time was not here yet.