The Midwife Factor

Paris, France, July

Morgan Wellington headed back to her dorm room alone around nine-thirty p.m. She'd just spent the evening with her Hungarian roommate, Bela, and some friends. As she approached her building, she began to feel a little strange but didn't understand why. It almost felt like someone was watching her. But who would be watching her?  And why?  Could anyone really be following her?  The dim light from the campus lights and the sunset kept the night from being completely dark right now, and that was consoling to Morgan.  She entered her dorm and walked down the empty corridor to her room still feeling a little jittery.  Once in her room, she looked in both directions before unlocking the door to her room and entering. As much as she loved being in Paris, she was suddenly glad this program was just about over and she’d be leaving here soon.

Plopping down on the edge of her bed, Morgan tried to figure out why she was feeling so peculiar. Those imaginary eyes had felt very real. But why would anyone be following her. And who could it be?   For several minutes, she considered the possibilities but could not come up with any logical reason that made any sense. What made the situation worse though, was that this was the second time she’d felt this since she’d been in Paris. The first time was two weeks ago. Morgan thought about that day. 

On that particular afternoon, her friend, Bela, had gone to the library to do research. It was a little past noon and Morgan was walking across campus alone when a sudden eerie feeling overtook her. On that occasion she also felt like she was being watched. She remembered glancing around but seeing nothing out of the ordinary. She noted that traffic was moving smoothly and students were milling about. But no one appeared to be paying her any attention. What's going on? she wondered. A short time later, that feeling passed and now she realized she hadn't thought about it since.  But at this moment, remembering how strange she had felt that day, she thought of something else that happened that very night. 

Her dream. A crazy one, at that. In it, she found herself in a scientific laboratory, white lab coat and all, experimenting with some concoction in a test tube. The thought of herself as a scientist made her laugh. But the dream had felt so real and she still remembered it vividly.  She wondered why she would dream of being in a laboratory and not at a sketch table. If it weren’t for the fact that she’d had unusual dreams all her life, Morgan might have chalked it up to mere dreamtime fancies. But she had always wondered if dreams were the mind’s way of revealing things to you that you might not otherwise receive. She had no way of knowing if there was any significance to that particular one or not, but concluded that it had been a strange way to end a day that had already been unusual.

Morgan was nineteen years old, tall, dark haired and attractive. With a wealthy Nobel Prize winning physician as a father, and a former beauty queen as a mother, she lived a privileged life. Her family resided in Wyoming, an exclusive suburb of Cincinnati, Ohio. Her father was world renowned and her parents entertained often in their huge home. Morgan had met hosts of important professionals and global dignitaries. She had seen the world with her parents and she had even spent her sophomore year of high school in Paris as an exchange student. Throughout all her travels, she had never been given to bouts of paranoia like this. So why am I feeling so leery? she wondered.

Suddenly it occurred to Morgan that possibly the misgivings she was feeling weren't about Paris at all and she wondered if this could possibly have anything to do with her parents. It had greatly troubled her that while she was away, her father had suffered a stroke. He was doing much better now, but still she worried about them both. The thought of something being wrong at home scared her and she immediately picked up her mobile phone and dialed her parents’ number in Cincinnati, Ohio. Her mother answered. “Hi Mom,” Morgan said trying to sound upbeat, relieved to hear her mother's voice. 

“Morgan, what's up, dear?” her mother asked, surprised to receive a call from her daughter at this time.

“Oh, nothing. I was just wondering how you and dad are doing. Is everything all right there?”

Sara Wellington sensed the apprehension in her daughter’s voice. Something was up. “Everything here is fine, Morgan. What's going on, dear?” she asked.

“Nothing, mom. Really, everything's fine here, too. I just thought I’d call and see what you guys were up to.”  

“Well, I’m glad you called. Did you have a good day?”

“It was the usual,” Morgan said not wanting the alarm she felt to sound in her voice. She definitely didn’t want to cause her parents any worry. With her father recuperating, the last thing they needed was to be concerned about her in Paris. “My classes were good. And after class tonight, Bela and I stopped by a coffee house and talked with some other designers for a little while. Then, Bela stopped over at a friend’s to pick up some drawings and I came on to my room. I was just thinking about you and dad. Is he there?”

“Yes, and he's fine, too. But right now he's got some people in his office,” her mom answered. “He’ll be glad to know you called.”

They spoke for a few more minutes, then Morgan said, “Well, okay, mom. Gotta run then. Love you both, and I’ll call again soon.”  She hung up, grateful that her folks were fine. She told herself she was being silly. On the other end of the phone, Sara Wellington was curious. Her daughter had sounded troubled, yet, she obviously did not want to talk about whatever was bothering her. Mrs. Wellington decided she would check in with Morgan the next day just to be sure that all was well.

The only child of Dr. and Mrs. Horace Wellington, Morgan was in Paris this summer attending a fashion design program at the Institute of Art. A future fashion designer herself, she was among a select group of talented students from across the globe chosen to participate in this program. She would begin her second year at the Rhode Island Institute of Design in the fall and everyone said she would gain a leg up from having attended this class. 

Morgan was one of those lucky people who seemed to have it made. She was popular, had great friends and wonderful parents who gave her everything she wanted, including a sporty little red Beemer. Yet, for reasons unknown, she had been haunted all her life by a disturbing sense that something was missing. Morgan never understood why she felt this way with all she had going on in her life. However, she did believe it possibly had something to do with her being adopted. She’d always known she was adopted, and she loved her parents very much, and was grateful that they had chosen her. Still, although she tried not to let it show, she secretly wondered about her true biological identity. In fact, she yearned to know who her real parents were. She'd heard that adopted kids tended to have crazy ideas about abandonment and love and stuff like that. Her parents certainly never gave her any reason to feel insecure. She chalked her feelings up to a natural desire to know her own identity.