The Sum of Our Days by Isabel Allende

on to the hospital.
    In the section for newborns we were met by Odilia, she of the thousand curls, with Sabrina in her arms. She had already hinted, during an earlier visit, that she wanted to adopt Sabrina. Grace held out her arms and Odilia handed her the baby, who seemed to have lost weight and was shivering even more than before. But she was alert. Her large Egyptian eyes gazed into Grace’s and then focused on Fu. I don’t know what she told them in that first glance, but it was definitive. Without discussion, with a single voice, the two women declared that Sabrina was the little girl they had been waiting for all their lives.
    I HAVE BEEN ONE OF THE Sisters of Disorder for several years now, and during that time I have witnessed a number of the marvels they have wrought, but none had such far-reaching effect as Sabrina. Not only did they find two mothers, they sorted out the bureaucratic tangle and facilitated Fu and Grace’s being able to keep the child. By that time the judge had put his signature on the pertinent documents and Rebecca, the social worker, had declared the case closed. When we went to tell her that we’d found another solution, she informed us that Fu and Grace had no license, that they would have to take classes and go through special training to qualify as foster mothers; she added that they were not a traditional couple, and that they lived in another county and “the case” could not be transferred. Although Jennifer had lost custody of her daughter, her opinion still mattered, she added. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have time to spend on something that’s already been decided,” she said. The list of obstacles continued, but I don’t remember the details, only that at the conclusion of the interview, when we were about to leave in defeat, Pauline took Rebecca firmly by one arm.
    â€œYou have a very heavy caseload, and you are paid very little. You feel that your work is pointless, because in all the years you’ve been in this position you’ve not been able to save the wretched children who pass through this office,” she said, looking deep into the woman’s soul. “But believe me, Rebecca, you can help Sabrina. This may be your one chance to work a miracle.”
    The very next day Rebecca turned the bureaucracy upside down. She recovered all the paperwork and modified what was necessary, and she convinced the judge to sign again, to transfer the pertinent documents to another county, and to certify Fu and Grace as foster mothers . . . all in the blink of an eye. The same woman who the day before had been so indignant about our persistence had been converted into a radiant whirlwind who swept aside every obstacle and with the stroke of her magic pen determined Sabrina’s fate.
    â€œI told you, this child has an ancient and powerful soul,” Odilia commented a couple of weeks later when she handed Sabrina over to her new mothers. “She touches people and they change. She has incredible mental power, and she knows what she wants.”
    So in the least expected manner, the monumental battle between Willie and me was resolved. We forgave each other, as much my dramatic accusations as his stubborn silence; we were able to put our arms around each other and weep with joy because that granddaughter had found her nest. Fu and Grace carried away their little mouse with the big wise eyes, and the circle of my friends set in motion the apparatus of their positive intentions to help her live. A photo of Sabrina sat on top of each home altar, and not a day went by that someone did not send up a thought for her. One of our sisters moved to another city, and we invited Grace to replace her in the group—after a period in which we verified that she had a sufficient sense of humor. In the Center of Zen Buddhism at least fifty persons prayed for Sabrina during their meditations and took turns rocking her while the two