Lottery by Kimberly Shursen Page A

“Many times there is not enough money to go around.”
    Inside this large room, metal cribs were lined up in four rows; seven in each row. Babies cried or babbled; some lying in their cribs, while others were being fed by employees or volunteers. Each child was clean and neatly dressed.
    “The ratio is fifteen babies to four adults,” Chun told Ling and Caleb.
    “Is there a restroom close by?” Caleb asked, fidgeting with a button on his shirt.
    Ling put her hand on Caleb’s arm. “Are you okay? You look a little pale.”
    “I’m fine,” Caleb said. In reality, his heart was breaking from seeing so many children who needed help.
    Chun pointed down the hallway. “At the end of the hall and then make a right.”
    “I’ll be right back,” Caleb said. When he found the restroom, he stepped inside praying no one else was here. Closing the door to a private stall, he sat down on the closed lid of the toilet and took out the flask that fit into his back pocket.
    “Thank God,” Weber said. “I’ve needed a drink ever since you got to this place.”
    Ignoring him, Caleb gulped the liquor. Maybe if he didn’t acknowledge Weber, he’d go away.
    When Caleb caught up with Ling, Chun was explaining that when children reach the age of sixteen they were given two years of education. Once they turn eighteen, the institute helped in finding jobs and securing a place to live.
    “Do most of them find work?” Caleb asked.
    Chun smiled. “Shanghai businesses welcome the opportunity to find or create jobs for our children.”
    When Chung reached the director’s office, she knocked on the door. “Dr. Wang,” she announced, “Ling and Caleb O’Toole are here to see you.”
    “Come in,” a pleasant voice called back.
    When Chun opened the door, Dr. Wang came out from behind his desk, his hand outstretched. “Mr. and Mrs. O’Toole? I’ve been expecting you. Welcome.” The slightly built man withsalt and pepper hair parted to the side appeared to be his early to mid-forties.
    Caleb shook his hand first. “Good morning, Dr. Wang.”
    The director turned to Ling. “I’m very pleased to meet you,” he said in perfect English. He nodded at the two chairs that sat in front of his desk. “Please have a seat.” He walked back to his desk chair and sat down.
    Manila folders were sprawled across the director’s desk, with even more folders stacked on the floor. Caleb glanced at the bookcase that ran the length of one wall that was filled with books on adoption. His gaze moved to a large framed family photo.
    “Ah.” Dr. Wang turned, following Caleb’s gaze. “You found my family. My wife and I have five children, three of them are adopted. It is difficult to work here and not fall in love with many.”
    “Beautiful family,” Caleb commented.
    “Thank you. They keep us very busy.” Dr. Wang smiled. His focus turned to Ling. “Tell me what you hope to accomplish with our institute.”
    “Well …” Ling leaned back in her chair. “It’s always been my dream to place Chinese children with American parents.” She placed a hand over her chest. “My mother was born in Shanghai. My father is Caucasian.”
    “I see.” Dr. Wang picked up a pen on his desk. “And you screen potential parents well, I assume.”
    “I’m just starting the process.” Ling changed positions. “So far, I have hundreds of applications.”
    “As I’m sure you both know,” Dr. Wang continued, “helping our children find a permanent loving home is our goal.” The director leaned back in his chair. “In the past few years we’ve been placing over three hundred children a year overseas.”
    “That’s so exciting,” Ling said.
    “The one thing that we ask of our adoptive parents is that they foster the child’s heritage by helping them become familiar with the Chinese language and the culture of their ancestors. We also have websites where our adoptive parents can interact,” the director said. “This is not a requirement. We