**Diary Entry 12th November 1983**
The call came when I least expected ita boys voice, trembling yet urgent, begging me to save his dying mother. I did. But later, I learned the boy, Tommy, had been buried a month before.
Im a doctor. Over the years, Ive seen it alljoy, sorrow, even the absurd. Yet this, by far, remains the most haunting. It happened in the early 80s, fresh out of medical school, assigned to a small clinic in a quiet village. I expected a run-down building but found a brand-new facility, the staff welcoming.
That Friday, I arrived early to organise paperwork before the morning rush. The nurse, Margaret, hadnt clocked in yet when the phone rang. A childs voice, clear as day:
*Dr. Edward! Mums poorly10 Baker Street! Please, hurry!*
*Whats wrong?* I asked.
*Shes dying,* he whispered.
No ambulance calledjust him, alone, waiting. Thensilence.
I grabbed my coat and ran. The door was ajar. Inside, a woman lay half-sprawled across the bed, deathly pale, an empty pill bottle by her feet. Pulse faint but there. I rang for an ambulance, and as we waited, I stabilised her. When they carried her out, neighbours clustered round.
*Will she live?* an elderly woman asked.
*Shell recover,* I assured her.
*Must be Tommy calling her,* she murmured. *Drowned last month. Poor lad.*
*But she has other childrena boy and girl,* I said.
*No, Doctor. Only Tommy.*
Who called me, then? Margaret listened, grim. *Thats Lydia Hart. Lovely woman. They doted on Tommy.* Then, frowning: *But our phones werent connected yet.*
The receiver liftedno cord. A dead boy rang a dead line.
At the hospital, Lydias husband thanked me tearfully. She stared blankly out the window until I mentioned Tommys call. A tear slid down her cheek. *He saved me.*
*He wants you to live,* I urged. *He even spoke of a sistermaybe theres hope.*
She shook her head. *Doctors say Ill never have children.*
Years later, a knock. Lydia stood there, radiant, a little girl clinging to her skirt. *This is Emily,* she said. *We found her waiting at the orphanagejust like Tommy said.* She touched her rounded belly. *And now a miracle.*
Even now, I wonderwhy me? A ghostly plea, a second chance. Some questions have no answers. Only echoes.
