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Ten minutes after my son was born, the doctor looked beneath his tiny left collarbone and turned so pale that the nurse beside him stopped smiling. I had survived eleven hours of labor with no husband, no mother, no friend waiting in the hallway, and I thought the worst thing that could happen that day had already happened. Then Dr. Daniel Mercer whispered, “That mark shouldn’t be here,” and I understood that something in my child’s skin had frightened a man who had delivered thousands of babies.
Chapter 1 My son was red-faced, furious, and healthy, with a thick patch of dark hair and a cry powerful enough to fill the delivery...
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