I laughed.

“Your smile is so nice. And what are your plans?”

“I just got off work. After my stop here, I’m going home.”

“A pity. I won’t be off until six in the morning. Two camels passing through the night.”

“Are you going to be up for tomorrow’s lunch?”

“Yes, most certainly. Please don’t cancel on me.”

“No problem.” I lowered my voice. “I have a favor to ask you.”

He chuckled. “What can I help you with, Cindy?”

I patted his shoulder. “You’re very nice. They’ve done lab work on the infant I brought in, right?”

“You were there when I draw the blood. What’s on your mind?”

“Is there any marker in her blood that would suggest that she is of one race or another? I’m trying to search for the mother, and the only lead I have so far is a blond white woman. The baby doesn’t look Caucasian to me.”

“That is because she isn’t, and I don’t need a lab to tell you that. She is of mixed blood—black and white.”

“Why not Hispanic?”

“The skin tone is different, and the features don’t suggest it. Hispanic infants just don’t look like she does. The thicker lips, the flaring nostrils, the broad forehead—suggestive of African blood, but it’s not as pronounced. My own siblings are mixed race. It’s not so hard for me to spot.”

“So if the mother is white …”

“Yes, it means the father is black.”

“Thanks, Koby. You’ve been a big help.”

He smiled, but it was tinged with uneasiness. He appeared to be wrestling with something.

“What?” I said. “You’re not supposed to be talking to me? Don’t worry. I won’t say anything.”

He looked around, then beckoned me into an empty hospital room. He closed the door. We were alone, but no sexual electricity this time. He was all business. “The baby. She has pronounced spatulate thumbs. I notice it as soon as she came in.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means her thumbs are short and look like spoons. Also, her eyes. It’s hard to tell because she’s a newborn, but I thought I detect epicanthic folds. I pointed it out to the resident. She agrees with my observations.”

“Okay. And they are significant because …”

“They may not be significant. We’ll know when the chromosomes are looked at.”

“Chromosomes?”

“Possibly the baby has Down’s syndrome.”

My heart dropped. “Down’s syndrome?”

“Possibly.” He smiled sadly. “I’m not sure, Cindy. I could be wrong.”

“Why don’t I expect that to be the case?”

“You’re saddened, I understand. But I see it differently. The child is different, this is true, but basically she’s healthy.” He laid a large hand on my shoulder. “So much sickness here. Life has thrown all these families curveballs. She still needs love. Hopefully, we’ll find a home that will take care of her special needs. I’m only telling you this because you are looking for the parents. If I am right—and maybe I am not—you might want to keep this private information in mind when you do your search.”