The Replacement

The Garcia family was sitting down to their routine family dinner. The family, which consisted of four children and their parents, were just about finished with their before-dinner prayers when Mrs. Garcia heard crying right outside their front door. 

The source of the crying ended up being a two-month old baby girl; she was placed at the Garcia’s doorstep, and sat right in the middle of a wicker basket like it was those past times when people didn’t own factory-manufactured strollers, car seats, or bassinets. Mrs. Garcia, overwhelmed by the four children that were already her responsibility, was quick to call the local authorities and get this newest bundle of joy out of her hands—and care. 

Officer James Cooper arrived shortly after Mrs. Garcia made her call to the station. As the police chief, Cooper usually didn’t make non-urgent house calls—but the station was slow and this phone call in particular piqued his interest. 

The news of a mystery child appearing from, seemingly out of nowhere, would have been captivating news for any resident of Idyllwild. But for James Cooper, no other call that he could have received that day would have torn him away from the Garcia’s home. 

It’s widely known what happened to the Cooper’s in the small, tight-knit community of Idyllwild. Around six years ago, James Cooper and his wife, Emily, reported their own daughter missing. It was a tragic year for the Cooper household and Mr. Cooper had taken a six-month leave from work in order to grieve the loss. 

Jessie was nine when she vanished. The Cooper’s were out on their monthly date night at Frank’s Diner, and Emily’s mother had volunteered to watch their two children until the parents usually returned—which was around midnight. 

Approaching midnight, the Cooper’s had pulled into their darkened driveway. It seemed that they had returned to a full and slumbering household; it wasn’t until James peeked inside the children’s shared bedroom that anyone noticed Jessie wasn’t there. 

James made a call to the station and within the hour, every single officer that worked at James’s precinct was standing in the Cooper’s driveway—ready to help.

Despite the abundance of helping-hands, Jessie was never located. Grandma Bennie was questioned first, and she told the officers that she tucked both children into bed before going to sleep herself—at around 10pm. Next, the officers talked to Dominic; the seven year old boy was sleeping in the same room as his sister when her suspected abduction took place. Dominic saw nothing, and only stated that they both fell asleep after Grandma Bennie had tucked them in for the night. 

The police found nothing. There were no apparent signs of forced entry into the house, no suspicious footprint left in the Cooper’s muddy yard, and no witnesses that claimed to see anything that could help the officers find out what happened to Jessie. Sean, one of the officers from the station, told the local paper that he never had a crime scene that lacked as much evidence as this one. “It’s like she disappeared into thin air,” he told the reporter. 

Full search parties took place for about six months after that first night that Jessie was reported missing. There were a few false leads that resulted, but no substantial clues were ever made to strengthen the Cooper search. After those six months, only James and five of his closest work buddies continued searching the nearby wilderness of Idyllwild. After a year, James was a search party of one—with no future plans of halting his search into the mystery of his missing daughter. He still makes weekly patrols of the locations first searched by the initial—and most populous—search party; he ends the search empty-handed each time. 

Cooper entered the Garcia’s living room to find the baby girl sleeping in the worn wicker-basket she was found in. He took a closer look at her. She was around two months old, as the Garcia’s reported in their phone call, with a fair complexion and thick black hair. 

“It’s funny,” James said, “she looks just like my Jessie did at that age.”

Mr. & Mrs. Garcia looked at James and nodded agreeably. After all, the child did share the thick black hair of the Cooper’s daughter—but they both silently wondered whether James saw the resemblance mainly as a result of how much his missing daughter seemed to be on his mind.

After getting his final statements from all the members of the family, James took the child to Silverwood Memorial hospital for the routine tests given for both the purposes of: 1) ensuring the proper health of the child, and 2) attempting to identify the parents of the missing baby, if they happened to be on file. 

The child, wrapped in a warm, white blanket, was held safely by one of the members of the nursing staff at the conclusion of all the tests. James, knowing there was no other way for him to help that night, finally left the hospital at 11pm and headed home. 

As he greeted his wife in the family room, James told her about the wonderful child that “had eyes exactly like our Jessie.”

The next morning, James dropped off his now thirteen year old son at school before checking in on the child at Silverwood Memorial. 

As James entered the hospital floor of the baby, he was greeted with unusually large crowds and bewildered faces. He walked down the tiled floor, his eyes searching for any free hospital attendant that could possibly answer his questions about the cause of such commotion. 

When James finally flagged down an employee willing to talk to him, he stood right outside the hospital room of Jessie’s look-alike. Looking through the hospital room’s glass wall, James noticed that the child was no longer there; instead, there was a toddler—laying where the baby once sat. Assuming that the staff moved her to a new location, James asked the nurse,

“Where’s the unidentified child I brought to this hospital yesterday?”

“In that room sir,” the nurse had replied with an air of disbelief. 

“No, the child I brought here yesterday was just a few months old, ” James objected. “Where did you move her?”

“Sir, she’s in the room,” she paused, viewing James’s tilted and confused face. “I don’t understand it either.”

James entered the fluorescently-bulbed hospital room that housed the toddler. Her face was turned opposite of James so he walked across to the left side of the hospital bed to get a look at who the child really was. 

Upon viewing her face, he was even more certain of the child’s resemblance to his long-lost daughter. His legs trembled from extreme shock—and he settled on the couch and waited all day for the miracle child to open her eyes. 

She didn’t. 

The next morning, James returned to the hospital to find that the child had aged yet another year in her deep sleep. 

This time he brought both his wife and the scrapbooks filled with pictures of his family—filled with pictures of Jessie. His wife didn’t quite believe his claims. No one did. He needed someone to believe. 

Emily stood looking at the sleeping child in the hospital bed. She stayed, unmoving and silent for a few minutes, and finally spoke. 

“That’s our girl,” she said. Her red eyes watered—but did not shed a single tear. 

By the fifth day, the Cooper’s suspected daughter had grown to be five years old. Nobody knew what was going on, the only explanation possible was that of the supernatural. The accelerated growth just wasn’t possible according to all-known science; the fact that the child was an exact copy of the missing Cooper child made everything stranger still. 

It was on the eighth day when she finally woke up. She called herself Jessie before anyone else had the chance to push the name on her. She didn’t feel like answering any of the questions the nurses were constantly throwing towards her. 

She asked for chocolate pudding and her parents. She got both within the hour.  

Her blood tests came back, and told the plain story of a healthy child that belonged to the Cooper family. There were no signs pointing to the cause of the accelerated growth that everyone in the hospital witnessed. The doctors were out of possible tests, and none had any clue as to how to proceed with studying it. 

She was a strange case. Nevertheless, the DNA did point to James being her father—so he took her home, at least until more information was discovered. 

The ninth day was the girl’s final day at the hospital. It was also the day she stopped growing. She was exactly the age Jessie was when she vanished that tragic night six years ago. 

After checking out of the hospital, James and his reunited daughter made their way home. Jessie sat in the passenger’s seat of her father’s black SUV. She turned to face him. 

“Why was I gone so long Dad?” 

“I have no idea honey,” he replied, “we just need to be grateful that you’re back now. Back home.”

She looked at her father’s wrinkled, tired face for a moment then smiled. He did the same. 

That night, Jessie slept soundly in the room that she vanished in six years ago. It was like nothing changed.

The Cooper’s were sitting at the dining table the next morning. Emily was pouring cereal, then milk, into the already set bowls on the table. Jessie sat to the right of her now-older brother and stared at him; it seemed to everyone that she was in shock at how much older he was. To her, Dominic was the one that did the accelerated growing—not her.

Dominic took one bite of his cereal then stopped to ask:

“Where’s OJ?”

Orange Juice, the Cooper’s ten year old resident feline, didn’t greet Dominic with her usual headbutts minutes before his alarm clock sounded this morning. That was odd for her but she’s gone missing before. Just last year, the Cooper’s spent a whole seven days in anguish until OJ decided to return home in the nonchalant manner that only cats do.

“I’m not sure Dom,” the mother replied, “she’ll probably be back by the time you come back home from school today. Don’t worry just yet.”

Emily drove Dominic to school. Jessie, who was yet to be enrolled at elementary, stayed home with her father. 

She walked off to explore her bedroom as her father got ready for work. 

She stood in the middle of her room for a few minutes. Everything was just as it was six years ago—her bed, still with the same strawberry-red sheets her mom bought before everything happened.  

She walked to the antique armoire between the two beds and looked into the mirror built into one of the armoire doors. There was a pale, black-haired girl looking back at her. It was Jessie.

She smiled. The reflection did not. 

The reflection in the mirror was clothed in a chartreuse two-piece pajama set, and had her hair up in a ponytail. 

The Jessie on the outside, facing the mirror, was wearing a fancy blue dress with hair braided in two strands. 

Orange Juice entered the frame of the mirror and walked between Mirror Jessie’s legs. The cat quickly settled to the side of the girl, curling down to begin a deep slumber. OJ was nowhere to be seen inside the actual room—like a reflection of something that wasn’t there.

The two girls stared straight into each other’s eyes. 

Finally, the girl outside the mirror opened her mouth and called out:

“Dad? Where are you?”

“I’m in my room,” he answered, “come here sweetheart.”

She gave a wide, unnatural smile to the Jessie stuck inside the mirror. Then, she began walking towards the father’s room. 

Jessie began pounding from the inside of the mirror when she saw it begin to leave. She tried shouting aloud. She tried to warn him. 

No one could hear a thing.