It was midmorning and she was clammy with clay, sweaty, and hungry. At the sight of an unfamiliar number, she started to silence the noise without answering. She wouldn’t be in a fit mood to speak with anyone until she’d had another cup of coffee and a snack. Then she remembered the adoption registry. Heart racing, she pressed the talk button. “Hello. This is Ava Barrett.” The caller didn’t introduce herself, only said she was with the International Soundex Reunion Registry. Then, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Barrett, but we haven’t been able to find a match to your request,” she said. The woman had the sort of unhurried, melodious voice you seldom heard anymore. Midwestern, probably. Ava dropped onto one of the kitchen chairs with the knees of her muddy overalls drawn close to her chin, her chest constricted with disappointment. “Are you sure?” “Oh yes. Our organization leaves no stones unturned, even tiny pebbles.”
