This is one of the great things about my brother. He didn’t whine or protest. “Sure. I love the munchkin,” he said. “Except for my volunteer work, I had no plans for tomorrow.”
He did love Sophie, though he was still nervous when he handled her. Now, he shifted from foot to foot. He was going to ask for something. “I do want to ask you if it’s okay if Sarah comes over tomorrow night. She hasn’t ever seen Spy, and since we Tivoed it, I thought…”
“Sure,” I said. I added cautiously, “Unless something else happens in the meantime.” I picked up a load of darks and carried it to the washer-and-dryer closet in the hall. Though Sophie was napping, the sound of the washer had never bothered her.
That task done, I lay down, which was very unusual for me. Being prone was such a relief, I realized I was beginning to feel very miserable indeed. I hovered between sleep and wakefulness for at least an hour. When I glanced at the clock, I knew Sophie would be stirring soon. I dragged myself to my feet. I had better get up and moving.
Robin should have had his panel by now. He would be sitting at the signing table. I hoped he had a long line. I wanted him to have a great time … and I wanted him to win. I asked myself if I regretted having sent him off to Bouchercon: surprisingly, no. Good for me! I gave myself a mental pat on the back.
While the dryer did its job, I put a pizza in the oven for Phillip and me; a one-step instant supper. He was in his room on his computer, but he’d left his door open, a great concession.
Then I heard Sophie crying. I plodded back to her room after washing my hands. And putting on a pair of the disposable plastic gloves I’d unearthed, the ones I used for icky housekeeping jobs. And pulling the mask over my nose and mouth. This time, Sophie howled at the sight of me. I lifted the mask and smiled; that calmed her down. But I had to put it back on, and my daughter was not happy with my odd look. I changed her diaper very slowly, and re-snapped her sleeper, which took twice as long as normal. She seemed to weigh five pounds more as I carried her over to the rocking chair in the corner and got ready to feed her. Midway through, I heard the timer go off for the pizza, and I called to Phillip to get it out of the oven.
“Go on and eat, if you want,” I added. “I’m in the middle of feeding Sophie.”
Another thing Sophie didn’t like was me raising my voice while I was holding her, I now discovered. But after a minute or two, she quit fussing and latched back on to my breast. For the moment I was happy simply being in that rocking chair and looking down at our child.
Being a mother was still a miracle to me, and taking care of Sophie was nothing like I thought it would be. As an only child with few relations, I’d never been around babies much, but I’d learned a lot in our short time together. The cycle of caring for her was simple but taxing, as gazillions of women since the dawn of time had discovered.
Change her, feed her, burp her, put her down for her nap. Now that she was two months old, Sophie was often staying awake for a while between naps. She was looking around her with some purpose. It was wonderful to watch her arms and legs wiggle and thrash, or to see her attempt to reach up for her mobile or a toy.
Until this evening, watching her every move had been endlessly intriguing. But right now, I felt so listless and thickheaded I couldn’t enjoy much of anything. I put her on a blanket on the floor and watched her flail around for maybe twenty minutes, talking to her in a nonstop stream so she would know I was close. I was hardly aware of what I was saying, to tell the truth.
I was about to call Phillip to lift her and lay her down in her crib—she was showing signs of getting tired—when I heard the front doorbell chime.
“I’ll get it,” Phillip called. I heard him talking. Then Virginia was looking at me from the doorway.
Virginia Mitchell, who’d told me she was twenty-three, was an African American woman with close-cut hair. Today she wore cropped running pants, an exercise bra under a complicated tank top, and a thin zip-up jacket, which she was removing. Virginia’s narrow feet were tucked into high-end running shoes, and her glasses were clearly sports-friendly. She had a large bag slung over her shoulder. I remembered that: it was just as large as mine, and just as shapeless.
Virginia didn’t look like a babysitter or household help. She looked as though she sold pricey athletic gear at lululemon. “Roe, you don’t look too good,” she said.
I had no doubt I looked as bad as I felt, but at the moment, I didn’t care about anything but my increasing awareness that I was really ill. “Good to see you again. Thanks for helping us out in a crisis,” I croaked. I began the laborious process of getting to my feet. “Sophie’s fed, changed, and she’s had some playtime. She should be tired in a minute.”
“She’s grown so much in two months! And she’s sleeping through the night, your husband told me?” Virginia was already squatting down to smile at Sophie. Sophie looked interested.
“Sometimes six hours straight,” I said, making an effort to keep on track. “I’ll feed her one more time before I turn in for the night. If she wakes up, see if patting her doesn’t put her out again. If it doesn’t, bring her into my bedroom. I’ll wear a mask. The doctor says it should be okay. The cat has her own door now, so she won’t have to be let in or out.” Moosie, my deceased sister-in-law’s pet, was a sweet but timid creature that had never exactly become “our” cat. But she did live with us. Moosie came in and out of the cat door on her own schedule, emptied her bowl regularly, and every now and then demanded lap time.
“I think I remember you feed her in the morning?” Virginia said.
I nodded, feeling my head ache with every movement.
Virginia looked at me narrowly. “How’s your mom? She been in to see you today?”
Not too surprisingly, my mother had been a frequent visitor right after Sophie had been born, and she’d also been responsible for hiring Virginia, on recommendation of a friend. “Mother’s fine,” I said faintly. “But she and John are at his family reunion in Savannah.”
“She’s not even in town? When do you think she’ll be back?”
“Couple of days.” At this point I hardly cared. I got the message; Virginia was anxious to identify an adult family member close at hand, in case I got much sicker. But she wisely let the subject drop.
“Do you want me to fix you some supper? Maybe a salad? Or some yogurt?” She was settled on the floor beside Sophie.
I had to repress a gag. “No, thanks. I heated up a pizza for Phillip and me, but I can’t eat it. If you’re hungry, half of it’s yours.” My bed was calling my name. “If you don’t remember where something is, just ask me or Phillip. I’m going to lie down now.”
“Anything in particular you want me to do while Sophie sleeps?”
“I am so glad you’re here,” I said sincerely. “I just need you to be in charge of the baby. And if Phillip doesn’t put the pizza away … if there’s any left … I’d appreciate it if you’d stick it in the refrigerator. And there are clothes in the dryer, but nothing that really needs folding. There’s SmartWater in the pantry, and other drinks and snacks. Help yourself.”
“If you need me, call me. The roses are so pretty.”
“What?” I drew a blank for a second. “Oh, the yellow ones. Yeah, I don’t know who left those.”
“The florist didn’t know?”
“Found ’em on the doorstep.”
“If the florist didn’t ring the doorbell, I guess they were hand-delivered by the sender,” Virginia said sensibly.
I hardly cared who had sent the flowers or why they’d been abandoned on the doorstep. I just wanted her to leave me alone. “I’m just going to rest a little, now that you’re here,” I said, trying to suppress the longing in my voice.
“You don’t look like you feel very well at all.” Virginia was obviously anxious.
“I really don’t,” I said. “But I’ll do my best not to give you any germs.”
“Climb in bed and don’t worry.” She leaned over the baby, smiling
. “I’ll take care of Miss Sophie.”
I could have kissed Virginia’s feet, but instead I gave her a more socially acceptable grateful nod before I tottered across the hall. I had made the bed this morning, which seemed like a hundred years ago. I eyed it with almost indecent anticipation. As I pulled off my clothes and put them in the hamper, I realized I was shaking. I slipped into my favorite nightgown. Despite what I had told Virginia, I crawled between the sheets and was officially in bed.
I hadn’t felt this ill in years. You’ve got the flu, I admitted. I wondered, in a dull, remote sort of way, how I was going to cope for the next few days, even with Virginia’s help. I was shivering so much I pulled the covers up around my neck. I’d opened the book I’d left on my nightstand, and I planned on reading. But then I thought I’d just lay it down for a second. And I was out.
When I surfaced, Phillip was standing by the bed looking down at me.
“You look like one of the Walking Dead,” he said, after a comprehensive scan of my face.
“Oh, thanks. That helps my morale.”
“Maybe one of the fresher zombies from FTWD,” he conceded.
I blew my nose and tossed the tissue into the wastebasket I’d positioned beside the bed. “That’s one of the things you don’t say even if you think it, Bubba. Virginia and Sophie doing okay?”
“They’re fine,” he said. “Do you want me to stay home from the cleanup day? I’ll only be gone from ten to two. But you look pretty feeble.”
I’d completely forgotten that Phillip had promised to help at the park cleanup day tomorrow. Father Aubrey Scott had challenged our youth group to put in so many community volunteer hours a year. He’d pledged that our church would take a part in the “Clean the Park” program this Saturday, in anticipation of the Halloween celebration next month.
“You can’t let Father Scott down,” I croaked. “I can manage taking care of Sophie by myself for a few hours. Virginia’s coming back tomorrow night.”
“I’ll come straight home from cleanup,” he reassured me, looking a little self-sacrificing. It didn’t take a detective to figure out he’d had more plans for Saturday afternoon. I rustled up enough energy to thank him appropriately. He patted me on the arm. “I’d hug you, but, germs,” he said.
Virginia knocked on the doorframe awkwardly, because she had an armful of the world’s most beautiful baby, who was making unhappy noises. “Someone’s hungry,” she said, smiling. “You ready?”
I sat up against the headboard and began to unbutton my nightgown. Phillip yelped “Hold off!” and exited the room as if he were on fire.
I had the mask and the gloves handy, and I pulled them on before I took the baby. Poor Sophie. She must have thought her mother was very odd. But since she was seriously hungry, she didn’t object to the mask. I popped out my boob and got her situated on a pillow across my lap. As I looked down at her, I marveled at the reddish fuzz on her lovely round head, the curve of her plump cheek, the grip of her tiny hands.
Having her had been the worst physical experience of my life. When I remembered it, I shuddered. But as I looked down at the prize I had received for a few hours of suffering, I knew I would have gone through twice the pain to have my baby. Considering the ages of her mom and dad, Sophie might well be an only child, but I was not troubled by that. I was lucky to have a baby at all, because for years I’d believed I wasn’t fertile and would never have a child. I was so in love with her.
Big love notwithstanding, by the time Sophie was through all I was able to feel was my own misery. She was full and wakeful and wet again. Virginia, who’d glanced in a couple of times, deftly scooped Sophie out of my arms. I stripped off the gloves and the mask with some relief, and rebuttoned my nightgown.
“After I burp her and change her, I’m going to put her under the activity station,” Virginia said. “Let her enjoy some wiggle time. Can I bring you anything? Some fruit juice?”
I pictured a glass of apple juice. I didn’t feel nauseated. “That sounds like a good idea,” I said. “Thanks so much.” I’d always heard nannies were just supposed to take care of the baby in their charge, not act as maids. When Virginia had shown herself willing to cycle the laundry through on her first stay with us, I’d been impressed.
“Your brother is a nice-looking boy. Polite.” She had brought me a glass of juice. She stood in my doorway, looking across to Sophie’s room to watch her having “awake” time.
“He is,” I agreed. The cold fluid felt good on my throat, though I shivered even harder. I rearranged the pillows bolstering me up so I could lie flat, and pulled the covers up to my chin again. “We’re glad to have him here.” Almost all the time, I added silently. From being the parents of no one, we’d become in loco parentis for Phillip when he’d run away to live with us, and now we’d added our very own infant. From footloose and fancy-free, to moving in together, to adding Phillip to our family, to getting married. And having the baby. Within less than a year.
That was a lot of life.
I managed to stay awake to read, though I didn’t enjoy it much. I had to read through the same passage over and over to get the sense of it. What I needed was a book I’d read before. When I was ill, a familiar book was a better companion; but I didn’t have the energy to go to our home library, which lined the walls of Robin’s office. I turned on the television with the sound down low and closed captioning on, and watched a show about law enforcement in Alaska. I couldn’t have told you what had happened, when the closing credits ran.
Virginia came by the door a few times. I realized I could call her if I needed her, but she was here to take care of the baby, not me. It took me ten minutes to talk myself into crawling out of the bed and staggering into the bathroom, where I found some Tylenol and gulped the pills down with a mouthful of water.
I surfaced some time later to hear a voice rising and falling. I lay with my eyes closed, trying to figure out who was talking. Oh, Virginia. Since she could hardly be arguing with Phillip, especially with such vehemence, she must be on her cell. Her voice was suppressed, but angry. I started to call out to ask her if she was all right, but then I realized it was hardly my business.
Virginia’s agitation made me anxious. I was relieved she seemed calm when she brought Sophie to me a short time later. I couldn’t have told you what time it was, and we didn’t speak. I nursed Sophie automatically. Afterward, Virginia, blessedly, swooped down to whisk Sophie away. I could hear her singing to the baby, in a very pretty voice, and then I was out again.
Chapter Three
When I woke up in the morning, the sun was shining through the blinds. I had to visit the bathroom in a very urgent way. To reach it, I had to hold on to the furniture. That scared me. It was after seven, and the monitor was on the bedside table, so Virginia had left.
At eight thirty, Phillip came in with a weeping Sophie. He was already dressed in jeans and an old T-shirt for his job on the cleanup crew. “I changed Sophie, and I walked around with her. But she keeps crying.” He was clearly anxious.
“Okay, hand her over,” I said, trying to sound like I was on top of the situation. Sophie, red in the face and screaming, was still beautiful, but maybe on a more primal level. I took my precautions with the gloves and the mask—again—and put her to the breast so quickly that Phillip didn’t even have time to turn around. I flipped the sheet over her head so I wouldn’t traumatize my brother.
There was instant silence, except for the adorable little noises Sophie made when she ate.
“Wow,” Phillip said, with some relief, appreciating the quiet. “Um, Roe, you really don’t look any better. Are you sure you’ll be okay while I’m gone?”
“Just come home as soon as you can,” I said. “I can handle her until then. Virginia will be back this evening. And before you go? If you can bring me some diapers and the box of wipes, I can change her in here.”
“When do you think you’ll be better?” Phillip actually sounded worried. “Should I call th
e doctor? Or take you to an emergency care place?”
“I’m sure I’ll run some more fever later today, but right now I’m okay.” That was somewhat true. “And you know, if I feel terrible, I can call … someone.” I’d been about to say my mother, but she was gone.
He looked relieved. “So when does Robin get his award?”
“Oh, don’t jinx him! Tonight, I hope. They’ll announce the winners at a banquet.”
“This is a big deal?”
“If you’re a mystery fan, it’s just about the biggest deal. It would make Robin so happy.”
“You’re really crazy about him, aren’t you? I mean … you didn’t get married because of Sophie being on the way.”
On the one hand, this really wasn’t Phillip’s business. On the other hand, he seemed to need reassurance. “Never doubt that Robin and I are a real couple,” I said gently.
He reddened. He kissed Sophie’s head to give himself a moment. “Sorry,” he said gruffly. “It’s just, I would hate it if you two started fighting.”
Phillip had seen and heard enough arguing between my father and his second wife, Phillip’s mother. “We won’t,” I said firmly. “I can’t say we won’t ever disagree, because we do from time to time. But we’ll never have screaming fights.”
“Sure, good,” he said, in the disbelieving and long-suffering way teenagers have. “Remember, Sarah’s coming over this evening to help me babysit?”
Sarah Washington and Phillip started “talking” to each other, which was like an exploratory flirtation, late the year before. They’d moved on to the next stage. “If you don’t get so involved with Sarah that you forget about Sophie,” I said, because I couldn’t think of any way to say that tactfully. “But also, Virginia will be here.”
Phillip grinned. “Okay, Sis,” he said. He was fully aware I’d rather he called me Roe.
“Have a good time at the park,” I said. “Tell Josh I said hi.” Josh, who had become Phillip’s best friend instantly, was one of my favorite people. In addition to Josh picking Phillip up in the morning and bringing him home in the afternoon, Josh and Phillip ran track together.
Sleep Like a Baby Page 2
