Chapter 3 - THE BOY IN ROOM TWELVE
St. Catherine's Children's Residence stood behind a low stone wall on the outskirts of Austin. It was not a hospital, though its small medical wing served children who needed long-term care. The building was clean and bright, with painted animals along the corridor and a playground overlooking a quiet garden.
A social worker named Mrs. Alvarez met them in the reception area. “Gabriel is asleep,” she explained. “Before we bring you to him, I need to ask a few questions.”
Mateo nodded. “Of course.”
She explained that Gabriel had been placed at St. Catherine's eleven months earlier after his adoptive mother, Teresa Ruiz, suffered a serious illness and could no longer provide the specialized care he needed. Teresa had died two months later.
“He has a heart condition,” the social worker said. “It's manageable, but he needs regular monitoring and may eventually require surgery.”
Elena pressed her palm against her mouth.
“Was he cared for?”
“Yes. He has a primary nurse and a pediatric cardiologist. He's a sweet boy, but he has trouble trusting adults who make promises.”
A nurse appeared at the door. “Gabriel is awake.”
Room twelve had a small bed, a bookcase, and a window overlooking the playground. A little boy sat on the floor building a tower from wooden blocks. He had dark curls, a serious little frown, and a dimple in his left cheek.
Elena stopped at the doorway.
The boy looked up. “Are you the new doctor?”
“No, sweetheart,” Elena said. “I'm Elena.”
He studied her. “Are you here to take my blood?”
Mateo crouched slowly, leaving several feet between them. “No. We're here to meet you.”
Gabriel returned to his blocks. “It's a hospital. The top part is for the heart doctors.”
“That's clever,” Elena said.
“Mrs. Alvarez says I have to be careful with my heart.”
“She's right.”
Elena held out a small paper bag. “We brought you something. You don't have to take it if you don't want to.”
Gabriel peered inside. There was a blue stuffed elephant, almost identical to the one in Vanessa's photograph.
“Where did you get that?”
“Your nurse told us you like elephants.”
“I had one like this before.”
“Do you remember it?”
He nodded. “It belonged to my first mommy.”
Elena's eyes filled. “Do you remember her name?”
“Teresa. She sang when she made toast.”
Elena would never compete with Teresa's memory. She would not try. “Teresa sounds like she loved you very much.”
“She did.”
Mateo sat on a chair. “I think she would want you to have people who love you now, too.”
Gabriel looked at him. “Do you know my other mommy?”
Elena could no longer hold back her tears. “I think I might.”
The boy watched her carefully. “Did she lose me?”
Elena felt the question settle into her heart. “I think someone kept you from her.”
He looked at Mateo. “Are you my daddy?”
Mateo's lips parted, but no sound came.
Elena nodded. “Yes, sweetheart. We believe we are.”
Gabriel looked at his hands. “Why didn't you come before?”
Mateo's voice broke. “Because we were told you were gone. We didn't know you were here.”
“Were you looking?”
“Every day since we found out.”
Gabriel reached for the stuffed elephant. After a long pause, he asked whether they would come back tomorrow.
Elena promised they would.
When they left the room, Mrs. Alvarez handed Mateo a sealed envelope found in Gabriel's belongings. The boy had been told it was a birthday letter from his father.
Mateo opened it. The handwriting looked like his, but the words were not his.
If you ever meet the people who claim to be your parents, remember that they abandoned you. They wanted a different child. You are safer without them.
At the bottom was a signature: Mateo Moretti.
Elena looked at her husband. “Your mother?”
May you like
“Maybe,” he said.
But the paper carried a second mark: a small embossed crest belonging to the Moretti family foundation. Someone had used the foundation's office to send the letter.
