I live in a house outside the city. Recently, I was coming home from work one evening when I saw a woman lying on the roadside, asking for help. She was dressed quite oddly. As I got closer, I noticed she looked like a typical fortune teller from a fair.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The woman was pregnant\u2014and in labor. Luckily, I\u2019m a surgeon. Though not an obstetrician, I knew I had to act quickly. Right there on the roadside, I helped her deliver her baby.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cDo you have somewhere to go?\u201d I asked, handing her the crying newborn wrapped in a towel I found in my car. She had nowhere to go; she explained that she had run away from a husband who treated her badly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Feeling sorry for her, I offered her a room in my house, as I have a large home where only I and my six-year-old daughter live. My daughter had recently broken her leg in a fall from her bicycle and was on bed rest at home, with a nanny looking after her while I worked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The woman, whose name was Miranda, thanked me and gratefully accepted my help. I drove her to my house and showed her a spacious room where she and her baby could stay. I also made sandwiches, and we had dinner together.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The next morning, I got up to check on my daughter, but her room was empty. Worried, I began calling her name. There was no answer. Then I went to Miranda\u2019s room. When I opened the door, I began to cry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The crib where Miranda\u2019s newborn had been sleeping was empty, and beside it lay my daughter\u2019s crutches. Both she and the baby were gone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My knees nearly buckled. Panic surged through me as I searched the room\u2014her clothes, gone; her shawl, gone; even the blanket I had given her. But on the nightstand sat a small deck of worn tarot cards, spread out in a strange pattern.<\/p>\n\n\n\n