I heard a click and saw light spread out below her door. The door opened and Rosie came out, squinting into the bright hall light. “What’s wrong?” she asked, and reached out to touch Baby Girl’s head. “This baby is burning up with fever.”
Rosie moved with more determination than I had seen in her in weeks. “This way,” she said and headed down the hall to the kitchen. “You get her out of her clothes, and I’ll fill the sink.”
I did as I was told and a few minutes later, Georgia was soaking in a bath. I scooped water with my free hand and let it run over her. Baby Girl always loves bath time, and kicks and splashes so much that I end up as wet as her. But not this time. Now she lay limp in the water, her arms hanging by her side.
Rosie stood near me. “She didn’t want her bottle when we tried to feed her. Did she take one for you?”
“She only took an ounce or two.”
“We need to get something in her,” Rosie said. “I’ll warm a bottle of sugar water while you finish up here.”
While I sat rocking Baby Girl and trying to coax some water into her, Rosie called the drugstore. It was only the crack of dawn, so no one was there to answer. Wasting no time, she called the pharmacist at home and demanded he do his civic duty and bring us some baby fever medicine. Less than an hour later, he was knocking on the door.
Getting those medicine drops in Georgia was a bigger struggle than the water. So much of it came dribbling out of her, I couldn’t be sure she got the right dose. I spent the rest of the morning rocking, pacing, and trying to get some water into Georgia. When her body started to heat up again, Rosie told me it was time for more medicine and another bath. While I held her in the sink, Rosie examined the bottle to see how much Baby Girl had drank.
Rosie picked up the phone again. “A fever is one thing, but not drinking is something else altogether. It’s time to call Doc Richards and have him come over to take a look at Georgia.”
I could hardly hold back the tears. Why was Rosie calling a doctor to the house? Even when my brother broke his leg falling from the tractor, Mama and Daddy just tied it up, put him in the back of the truck, and took him into town. The only time I ever heard of a doctor making a house call was when Doc Pritchett went to Old Lady Miller’s. They buried her the next day.
What had I done to this little girl? Was that fan too strong for a little one? Why hadn’t I found a clinic for her to get shots, the way Mama did with us? Was God punishing her for me being such a bad daughter and a dishonest friend? Maybe Dottie was right to question my ability to care for this sweet child. My tears started to splash into the bath water. Rosie put down the phone and came over and gave me a hug.
“Everything’s going to be all right,” she said. “Babies get sick. It’s a part of growing up. I’ve known Doc Richards his whole life. He’ll have Georgia feeling good as new in no time.”
Rosie went back to the phone. It seemed like the nurse who answered the call didn’t see eye to eye with Rosie. But Rosie didn’t back down. “We will not bring a sick baby out into the world. You tell the doctor who is calling. You remind him that I was his mama’s best friend on Earth, and I still remember changing his diapers. Tell him I expect to see him at my door shortly.”
Rosie hung up the phone and shook her head. “I’m going to have a talk with that boy after he tends to Georgia. No house calls? Whoever heard of such a thing? His daddy always paid us a visit whenever anyone in the house took ill. Young Doc Richards might know more about modern medicine than his daddy, but Old Doc Richards knew more about taking care of people.”
She walked over to the sink and felt the water. “Get Georgia dressed, and try to get some water into her while we wait for him. And Becky, when Doc does get here, I’ll do the talking. That boy always is asking questions.”
Georgia and I barely got settled into the rocking chair when there was a knock at the door. Rosie swung open the front door. A soft voice spoke. “My nurse said there was an emergency. Are you having trouble breathing, Mrs. Perkins? Are you experiencing much pain?”
“I’m fine,” she answered. “That fool nurse of yours doesn’t listen. I told her it’s the baby who’s sick.”
“Baby?”
They walked into the parlor and I got my first look at Doc Richards. He was a tall, thin man who towered over Rosie. His hair was silver, and his face lined with creases and folds. For a moment, I thought the young doctor had sent his father in his place.
“Your mama was your daddy’s nurse,” Rosie said. “He knew how to hire good help.”
Doc Richards laughed and gently patted Rosie on the back. “So this is my patient today.” He leaned down and lifted Georgia from my arms. “What’s her name?”
I started to answer but remembered Rosie’s warning so I sealed my lips.
“Her name’s Georgia,” Rosie answered.
“How old is she?”
“About two and half months.”
“When was her last checkup?”
“This is the first time she’s been sick. She didn’t need a doctor before now.”
The doctor looked at me and asked, “You’ve been here more than a month and you haven’t taken the baby to see a doctor yet?” I couldn’t control the muscles in my face when the corner of my lips began to twitch. How did he know we had been here for a while? As if he read my mind, Doc Richards said, “There was a picture in the county newspaper of you at the Fourth of July parade. In these parts, that makes you a famous celebrity of sorts.” Then he laid Baby Girl on the sofa, sat next to her, and stared at me. “Don’t you speak?”
“Of course she speaks,” Rosie answered. “She is exhausted from taking care of this little one, so I’m answering your questions so that you get the right answers. You know how flustered a tired mama can get.”
Doc stared at me for a minute, and then returned his attention to Rosie. “Has she had any of her shots?”
Rosie looked at me. I shook my head. “Not yet,” she said.
“Can you bring me my bag?” he said to me, nodding in the direction of the rocking chair.
I walked over and picked up his bag, and brought it to him. He took Georgia’s temperature and checked her over from head to toe, all the time asking questions. Finally, he handed her to me and walked into the kitchen. When he returned, he told us that he had called down to the pharmacy and that someone would be dropping off some medicine for Georgia. He said she had an ear infection and she would feel better in a day or two.
“Keep giving her that medicine until it’s all gone. Try to feed her a little something every hour until her appetite returns. We want to keep fluids in her. And promise me that you’ll bring her in for a checkup next week.” He closed his bag and stood up straight. “As a matter of fact, why don’t you both come in next Wednesday? You are overdue for a checkup too, Mrs. Perkins.”
Rosie started to protest, but Doc Richards put up his hand. “No arguments,” he said. “I’ll have my nurse give you a call with the time. And be nice to her, Mrs. Perkins. She works very hard.”
We spent the next few days at home. I took care of Georgia. Rosie took care of Georgia and me. After that first trip out to see Lily, we had taken to having weekly visits with her. Each trip seemed like the first. When words did pass through Lily’s lips, they always seemed to be in regard to Baby Girl and my apparent inability to tend to her properly. Is that baby drinking enough? Is she drinking too much? The summer sun is awful hot; I do hope you’re making sure she’s wearing a proper hat outdoors. Her tone let me know what words she was leaving unsaid. Rosie always tried to change the subject quickly, but once a bee stings you can’t just rub the hurt away.
When Sunday rolled around, Rosie decided it was too soon for Baby Girl to be out and about, so she called up to Lily’s to let her know we wouldn’t be around for our weekly visit. I did my best to convince Rosie she could go without me, but truth be told I was relieved when she didn’t take me up on it.
I was more than a little surprised when Lil
y showed up on our doorstep. John had driven her into town, and Lily had insisted they stop by the store to make sure everything was as it should be. He had noticed a letter wedged between the door and the jamb of the Second Hand Rose and gave it to Lily to pass along.
“John thought it might be important,” Lily said as she handed the folded paper to Rosie. “I had heard the doctor had paid you a call, so when you phoned to say you weren’t coming, I was concerned. How are you feeling?”
Rosie raised an eyebrow.
“I wouldn’t be surprised to learn everyone in town knew about Doc Richards’s house call, but I didn’t think it would travel all the way out to you. No need for concern, though; it was Georgia who was in need of a doctor, not me, and she is on the mend now.”
Rosie guided Lily to a kitchen chair. I looked at the paper in Rosie’s hand. I was curious about its contents, but didn’t want it to show in front of Lily. Rosie made a show out of carefully folding the paper back up and tucking it into her housecoat pocket for safekeeping.
“If the baby was sick, why didn’t you call her pediatrician? Why call Dr. Richards?” Lily asked.
“She doesn’t have her own doctor,” I said.
Lily turned and stared at me long and hard. I wished I could pull back my words. I walked over to the refrigerator, took out a pitcher of lemonade, and placed it on the table in front of Rosie along with three glasses. “Is the paper important?” I asked, trying to change the subject.
“Nothing that can’t wait until we’re ready to go back to work,” Rosie answered, as she poured the lemonade. “Why don’t you put out a plate of cookies, too?”
I brought the treats to the table and began babbling on about them, but Lily was set on her subject and wouldn’t be distracted from it. “Why doesn’t she have her own doctor? It’s best to use a specialist for children,” Lily said.
“Now, Lily, Doc Richards took care of you growing up and look at how fine you turned out,” Rosie said, patting Lily’s arm.
The look on Lily’s face softened a bit. “So he has been giving Georgia her checkups and shots?”
“Not yet, but he’ll get started on that soon.” Then, before Lily could get another word in, Rosie launched into the Hollywood version of the story of Baby Girl’s illness. Of course in Rosie’s version, I starred as Florence Nightingale. I was about to correct Rosie when Baby Girl started to cry. I was happy to hear her sad little moan was back to a demanding ear-piercing howl. I excused myself and went to rescue her from her crib.
Rosie and Lily had their heads together when I returned to the kitchen, and the discussion seemed less than friendly. When I heard Lily whisper Doc Richards’s name, I stopped in my place and stood there trying not to make a sound.
“All I’m saying is that if that girl is old enough to have a baby then she’s old enough to know,” Lily said.
“Age has nothing to do with my decision. I’ll decide when the time is right,” Rosie answered.
And that was when they noticed me standing there in the doorway. They both turned and stared at me in silence. I felt like I had just walked into a crowd with my skirt tucked in my pantyhose. Even unintentional eavesdropping is shameful behavior.
The three of us stared at each other for what seemed like forever. Baby Girl broke the silence when she let out a happy coo. “Well, look who’s here,” Lily said. She stood up and walked over with her one arm outstretched. “I’ll take her. Becky, please go write down the information about Rosie and Georgia’s checkups. I’ll be sending John down to take you, so there is no chance of you missing the appointments.”
I tightened my hold on Baby Girl and looked at Rosie. Lily never made any attempt at holding Baby Girl, so I wasn’t entirely comfortable with the situation. I looked down at her cane and chewed my bottom lip.
“I’ll sit down,” Lily said.
I glanced at Rosie. She nodded, so I placed Georgia in Lily’s arms. I stood there watching for a minute, half expecting Baby Girl to kick up a fuss about being in a stranger’s arms. “She’s fine,” Lily said. “Please get me the information I asked for.” I reached for a pencil and a pad of paper.
“Thank you,” Lily said as she started swaying back and forth with Georgia. “This little girl is ready to take on the world. Why, look at how bright her eyes are and how pink her little cheeks look. I really don’t think the store is the proper place for a baby to be spending her days, though.”
I reached over and pulled Baby Girl from Lily’s arms and shoved the note in her hands. “There’s the information you want,” I said.
Baby Girl squeaked at being pulled from her comfortable resting spot. I buried my face in her curls. Rosie got up and said, “Her mama takes good care of our little Georgia, no matter where she is.”
Lily gathered her things and headed for the front door. “Regular checkups are important for a baby,” Lily began. “Make sure you make appointments for all of her shots and visits, and give the information to John. He’ll see to it that you arrive at the appointments on time.”
I watched Rosie close the door behind Lily. The last thing I wanted was to talk about my eavesdropping, so I was ready with words when Rosie turned around. “I think Lily is right about Georgia looking like her old self, and Doc Richards said she would be good as new by now. Besides, I don’t want you missing out on any more business because of us.” I stopped for a split second to catch my breath. “Was the letter Lily brought from a customer needing something from the Second Hand Rose? I could go down there today by myself if that would be helpful.”
Rosie put her hand up like a traffic cop before I could rattle on any longer. “Slow down, Becky,” she said. “Nobody’s going anywhere today. The letter is from a woman looking for you to help her with a christening gown. A bunch of moths had a party with the family heirloom and the new mama wants you to try to repair it somehow. If that’s something you want to take on, then I can give her a call from here and have her bring the gown in when we decide to go back to work.”
“I can call her,” I offered. “That way I can get a better idea of what she’s looking for and whether or not I can do it.”
“Suit yourself,” Rosie answered. She pulled the letter from her pocket. “Lily has a good heart, Becky; I know her words seem harsh sometimes, but she only wants what’s best for us.”
I took the letter in my right hand and shifted Georgia to my hip. The first thing I noticed on the letter was the date. The woman left the letter two days ago. “I better call now, before she finds someone else to do the work,” I said.
“I wouldn’t worry too much about that,” Rosie said. “Did you read the whole note? She got your name from somebody at a Mommy and Me class. They were talking about your stitch work on the baby clothes. What kind of mama needs to go to a Mommy and Me class? What do they do there, anyway?”
I smiled and shrugged. Rosie was catching my bad habit of rambling on when her nerves got rattled. I picked up the phone and dialed.
Rosie stood in front of the sink pretending to not listen to my conversation. When I placed the phone back on the cradle, I said, “She’ll drop by the store in the morning. I hope I can fix it in time for the christening. If not, this baby will be the first child in five generations of that family not to be christened in the family gown.”
“A christening is a very important thing in a person’s life,” Rosie said. “To be wrapped in family roots during it is extra-special. I hope you can help them.”
That night as I lay in bed, I wondered about the conversation I had walked in on. What did Lily think I was old enough to know? I didn’t doubt for a second that she would be criticizing me. I pushed my thoughts as far out of my mind as I could. Tomorrow was a workday and I needed my rest. The last thought that stirred in my brain wasn’t about Lily or Rosie. It was about Doc Richards and his comment on the photo in the newspaper. Thinking about how many people might have seen us in the paper made me feel like a storm was brewing, and I needed to find a safe shelter before it hi
t.
CHAPTER 17
The sun shone extra bright the next morning. At least that’s how it felt when I walked outside for the first time in days. There were none of the usual hellos as we walked down Main Street. Rosie thought it wise for us to go in early and air out the Second Hand Rose before the customers started arriving. When Rosie swung the front door open a full hour early that day, I knew that once again she was right. The hot musty air rolled out at us, and Rosie and I sounded like we were having a sneezing contest.
Despite our early start, Mrs. Jeanie Applewood arrived at the store shortly after we opened. She was carrying her brand new baby in one arm and a cardboard box in the other. A young man paced back and forth on the sidewalk in front of the store with a cell phone pressed to his ear. I took him to be Mr. Applewood.
Mrs. Applewood shoved the box at me. “This is it,” she said. “The gown. The christening gown. The christening gown that has been in my husband’s family forever. The one my motherin-law bestowed upon me the day we returned from our honeymoon. The one I stuck up in the attic, because I didn’t appreciate her interfering. Not that she interferes—she would be the first one to tell you that she never does that. And not that I’m judging, because I’m really not the kind of person who jumps to judgments. It’s just that … Can you fix it?”
Mrs. Applewood looked more nervous than a bird in a roomful of cats. I opened the box and examined the gown. The Applewood’s attic was home to one hungry batch of moths. When I looked up Mrs. Applewood was pacing the floor in step with her husband pacing outside.
“Well?” she asked. “Is there any hope?”
Rosie walked over and stood beside the woman. I think she wanted to be ready to catch the baby in case I said the gown was a lost cause.
I pointed to the paper taped to the cover of the box. “Do you know if this is a list of everyone who wore this gown?” I asked.
Mrs. Applewood nodded. “The Applewoods are very organized people. I’m sure the list is complete.”
Providence Page 10
