As her eyelids fluttered, she gave him a furtive smile. “One more thing.” Her voice became so weak he had to lean down to hear her raspy whisper. “Bury me in an unmarked grave.”
His chest constricted. “What?”
A deep exhale echoed through the treatment room when she found peace in death. The child cried out as if he knew of his mother’s passing.
The girl had no identification. She had been delivered to the clinic while communications were down from the storm that had racked the area for days. No way for him to call for help—was it intentional? He had given her a promise, which went against all his principles. It all felt so surreal.
Standing, he picked up the baby, held him close, and pulled a sheet over the girl’s body. In the midst of sorrow, God had given the doctor a son. A gift he decided he would accept without question.
Her words haunted him. “Bury me in an unmarked grave,” she had said. What trouble had she gotten into to elicit such a request?