Chosen Read Online Free PDF Page B

be a Volvo Cross Country. The pregnant couple hangs back, and Paul has returned to his magazine when he hears a familiar voice.
    “Hi, I’m Chloe Pinter. I’m a social worker for the Chosen Child,and my client here, Mandy, is thirty-five weeks and having some bleeding.”
    “Well, then I need to speak to her ,” the admitting nurse says, and beckons for the woman to come forward. The man behind her seems attached; they move toward the triage counter in perfect unison, shuffling as she hunches over slightly. Chloe steps back, hand possessively gripping a manila folder. Paul notices her blush, embarrassment maybe from having been dismissed, but it makes her look lovely, fresh from bed. There is still the slightest crease from a pillow on her cheek, the strap of her overalls slipping off her shoulders as she takes the seat closest to the admitting desk.
    “Hey, stranger,” Paul says as he slips into the seat next to hers.
    “Paul Nova! Oh, my goodness, how are you?” Chloe side-hugs him, awkward with them both sitting down. Though she keeps her head turned slightly, listening to the conversation between Mandy and the nurse, Paul swears she looks genuinely excited to see him.
    “I’m good. You look great for the middle of the night.”
    “Ha! Thanks. Is Eva here? Baby time?”
    “No, we’ve got about two weeks to go. Attacked.” He holds up his bandaged hand. “Vicious house cat.”
    “Ah.” Chloe nods.
    There is a pause in the conversation, and they can both hear Mandy answer the intake nurse softly, “Yes, we’re giving her up.”
    Chloe frowns slightly, whispers to Paul, “You’re supposed to say, ‘We’ve chosen a family for her’ or ‘We’re making an adoption plan for her,’ or ‘placing her for adoption.’ You’re not supposed to say ‘giving her up’ anymore.”
    “It’s all about the semantics, huh?”
    “Well, for the baby. Who would want to know that they were ‘given away’?”
    “I see your point.”
    “I should go call the adoptive family,” Chloe says, standing up. She stretches her arms over her head, and the bib of her overalls slipsto one side, showing her cupcake breast under her tight black shirt. Down, boy .
    “Okay.” Paul clears his throat. “Can I get you a coffee from vending?”
    “Really? That would be great. Regular, lots of cream and sugar. I think I’m going to be up awhile.” She glances at the couple by the counter.
    Paul watches as Chloe steps into the hallway to use her cell phone. It’s not the right time to be thinking about this, but he always got the sense that there was a little something—low-voltage, but something—between him and the social worker. Hard to know if what she liked about Paul had anything to do with him as a man, or the fact that they were great bait for potential birth mothers. The chances of him ever knowing exactly are slim. After tonight, he thinks, he’ll probably never see her again. He is wrong.
    With his good hand, Paul feeds wrinkled bills to the vending machine and gets them two coffees, grabs a pile of creams and sugars. Chloe is talking to the pregnant couple at the triage station.
    “Do you want me to come with, or are you all right?” Chloe asks, her hand resting gently on the woman’s upper arm.
    “We’re okay.” The man speaks for the first time, his voice gravelly. “You aren’t leaving, are you?”
    “Um, no…,” Chloe says, and Paul checks his watch. Jesus, it’s almost four thirty. Here’s to hoping Eva doesn’t go into labor before he gets a decent night of sleep under his belt.
    “Good.” The birth mother nods. “If we don’t get admitted, we’ll need a ride home. One of the neighbors is with the kids, but I’ve got to get to Kohl’s in an hour. Black Friday.”
    “Okay. I called the Byrnes and told them what’s going on. They want to know if they should come in; they’re worried about you.”
    “Not yet,” the man says firmly. “Tell them don’t come yet.”
    When he has gone