by Grievous Sin
Sammy smiled. Hendricks placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You did a great service for your mother. She has an unusual blood type, and yours was as perfect a match as they come. You always hope your kids’ll be there for you, and, my boy, you sure were. You really should be proud of yourself.”
The boy looked at his lap and nodded gravely. Hendricks smiled at Jake. “And you’ve changed a bit, too. Thanks for helping out, too, Jacob.”
The younger boy smiled back. Hendricks looked at the clock, then at Mr. and Mrs. Elias. “It’s almost ten. Visiting hours are just about over, but I’m sure if you’re quick, you can sneak in a peek at that beautiful granddaughter of yours. Then I want you all to go home and relax.”
“I can’t leave,” Decker said.
Hendricks frowned. “I won’t press you, Sergeant. I know you’re going to want to see Rina as soon as she comes out. But you really should try to rest.” To Mrs. Elias he said, “Take the boys home and get some sleep. You’re going to need to relieve him in the morning.”
“I will, Doctor.” Magda paused. “She’s really okay, my daughter?”
Dr. Hendricks took her hand and held it. “She’s really okay.”
“We just love her…”
Tears formed in Magda’s eyes. Stefan took his wife’s hand, squeezed it, then turned to Decker. “You come see your baby, Akiva. Just for a moment.”
“Go, Sergeant,” Hendricks said. “You could use a little joy.”
Slowly, Decker stood and blew out air. He didn’t want to go. What he wanted more than anything else was to see Rina. He wanted to hold her hand and kiss her long, slender fingers. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her. He didn’t want to be ecstatic while she was suffering. He didn’t want to do anything without her. Because nothing was as joyous as when they shared the moment together. But he decided to go see his daughter anyway. Because a little joy was better than none.
5
Cindy wiggled her fingers at the pink bundle with the saucer eyes, thinking the witch had purposely put the baby all the way in back. But it didn’t matter. Baby Girl Decker was so big and alert, she’d be visible wherever she was. The two layettes that abutted hers belonged to Baby Girl Rodriguez and Spencer Dole. BG Rodriguez was a teeny little thing with a head no bigger than a navel orange. She had thick black hair and wrinkled skin. Spencer had a fat, squat face and howled constantly. But BG Decker seemed unbothered by her roommates’ perplexities, preferring to drool on her paper bedsheet while trying to suck her thumb.
The nursery was a full house tonight—layettes filled with whites, blacks, Hispanics, and one Asian named Baby Boy Yamata who never cried. Rows of innocent babies out of Central Casting. Baby Girl Decker was living in a veritable pint-sized UN. A moment passed, then Baby Girl Jackson, representing the African-American contingent, opened a toothless mouth and let out a silent wail.
Nose to the glass, Cindy made silly faces at her sister, wishing she could hold her, hoping that Nurse Marie Bellson would go off shift and let her alone. The woman was intimidating, lean with knobby, rakelike fingers. Bellson was a deciduous tree in the wintertime—thin and barren. She had a way of making you feel guilty even if you hadn’t done anything.
Cindy’s eyes moved to the wall clock—visiting hours were almost over. She knew she’d have to leave any minute. As if to prove herself correct, she saw Bellson come out of the nursery. The woman was pure no-nonsense. She wore little makeup, and practical jewelry—a class ring, two gold stud earrings and a gold cross above her uniform breast pocket. She had attractive eyes, though—bright green spotted with brown. They’d be even prettier if they didn’t look so angry. Cindy put on her nicest smile.
“One more minute?”
Bellson shook her head. “You’re getting too attached to the baby. You’re her sister, not her mother.” She flicked her wrist. “Visiting hours are officially over. Good night.”
Cindy sighed, looked down the hallway, then broke into a grin. “That’s my father and my stepmother’s family.”
Bellson put her hands on her hips and shook her head again. Cindy jogged down the corridor and gave her father a bear hug.
“Rina’s okay?”
Decker linked arms with his daughter. “She’s out of surgery. Sammy gave her a pint of blood, God bless him.”
“But everything’s okay?”
“Not out of the woods yet, but I feel a lot better than I did an hour ago.”
“You look beat, Dad. You need rest.”
Decker knew she was right, but that was immaterial. He wasn’t going anywhere until he saw Rina. “Are you our personal escort?”
“Absolutely, if Bellson doesn’t kick us out. She just told me to leave.” Cindy frowned. “Here comes the Wicked Witch of the West now.”
A thin woman in white approached them. She had surface wrinkles trailing down the corners of her eyes and mouth and a set of wavy lines across her forehead—the kind of wrinkles that usually come from overtanning, except this woman held a proper Victorian pallor. Her hair was clean, but the color was dingy—pipewater from old plumbing. Her eyes were her saving grace—Kelly green sprinkled with coffee brown. They were clear and perceptive. She wasn’t pretty, but she managed to strike an attractive pose. Decker put her age at around forty. She held out her hand, and Decker took it.
“How is your wife, Mr. Decker?” Bellson asked.
“She’s still in Recovery.”
The RN nodded. “We’ve got the best post-op care in the country. So try not to worry. I’ll let you folks take a quick peek at the baby before I boot you out. Not my idea, but the babies are being transferred from the nurseries to their mothers for the ten o’clock feeding. We don’t like outside people in the wings while we’re wheeling them down the foyers. Who knows what kind of bugs they’re harboring.”
Magda said, “We be quick.”
“Come.” Bellson’s walk was brisk. “You’re the grandma? You look too young.” She stopped at the glass window. “She’s all the way in back. I’ll put her in front for you.”
Cindy watched Bellson disappear behind the nursery doors, amazed by the woman’s transformation. From sneers to smiles, she’d become all-accommodating. It made Cindy feel funny. Why was Bellson so mean to her and nice to everyone else? She shrugged. At least Dad was happy. His smile was genuine—first one she’d seen tonight. She went over and leaned her head against his arm. Together, they watched Bellson—who had donned a blue paper gown, gloves, and a face mask—rearrange the layettes until BG Decker was in front. Then the nurse picked her up and gave them a front view of the bundle. Cindy noticed that her father was holding back tears. He’d always been good at damming his emotions. It was one of the reasons why tonight seemed surreal. She had never seen him scared.
She said, “She looks like you, Daddy.”
“No, no, no,” Magda said, rapping gently on the glass. “She look like Ginny, but she has Akiva’s coloring—the red hair and fair skin.”
“Poor kid,” Decker said. “Another lobster in the sun.”
“Suntanning isn’t good for you anyway, Daddy,” Cindy said. “And if that’s not a cheap rationalization…”
“Grandma’s right,” Marge said. “She does look like Rina.”
“Of course she does,” Magda announced. “I’m good at faces. Nu, Stefan, tell them.”
“She’s good at the faces,” her husband stated.
Decker turned to his sons. “What do you think?”
“I think she’s funny-looking,” Jake said. “She’s all red.”
Magda gently hit his arm. “You were red when you were born.”
“No, no, no,” Stefan said. “Yonkie was never red. Shmuli was red.”
Decker regarded his elder stepson, still pale but steady on his feet. He seemed lost, his eyes unfocused. “Are you okay, Sam?”
“Huh?”
Decker put his arm around the boy. “What are you thinking about?”
“I wish I could see Eema. You know…just see her.”
“She’ll be okay, won’t she?”
“Doc assures me she’ll be fine. I believe him, Sammy.”
“When do you think you’ll see her?”
“I don’t know, Sammy. Soon, I hope.”
“Will you call us after you see her?”
“Depends on the time.” Decker hugged his shoulder gently. “I’m not going to call you at three in the morning.”
“No, you call us, Akiva,” his mother-in-law said. “I don’t sleep much tonight anyway. You call us as soon as you see Ginny. I want to know.” She wiped her eyes. “Please, you call.”
“I’ll call.”
“Maybe you call Rav Schulman in the morning,” Stefan suggested. “Ginny would want you to call him.”
Decker nodded, thinking it was a good idea. Over the years, the old rabbi had become more than Decker’s teacher, had become even more than a spiritual adviser. More than anything, Rav Schulman had become a wise and treasured friend. Decker could certainly use a little wisdom now. He watched Marie Bellson resettle his daughter back in the layette. To Cindy, he said, “The nurse seems okay.”
“To you.” Cindy shrugged. “Maybe I just rubbed her the wrong way. I didn’t mean anything. But sometimes I guess I get a little overexuberant.”
“Thanks for your help, Cindy.”
“You like your daughter?”
“I like both my daughters.”
Cindy stepped on her tiptoes and kissed her father’s cheek.
Nurse Bellson came back and placed her hands on her hips. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you all to leave. I’ve got to get these babies to their mothers. We don’t want any hungry infants.”
“Who’s going to feed our baby?” Cindy asked.
Decker noticed an immediate narrowing of Bellson’s eyes. The expression was subtle and fleeting, but it was strong enough to set his antennae quivering.
“I’m going to feed her personally just as soon as I finish wheeling the babies to their mothers,” Bellson said.
“Can I feed her?” Cindy asked. “I’ll gown up. Please?”
Decker cut in before Bellson could speak. “I think it would be a good idea if Cindy…I know my wife would like it. If you wouldn’t mind, Marie. I don’t want to upset any rules, but…”
Decker watched Bellson rock on her feet.
“It’s unusual,” she said.
“I promise I won’t get in your way,” Cindy said.
“That’d be a first,” Bellson muttered under her breath. Then she smiled. “I suppose I could allow it this one time. Go inside the nursery, but don’t go past the yellow line. I’ll suit you up in a minute.”
“Thank you very much, Marie,” Decker said. “I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome.” Marie checked her watch again.
Decker said, “We’re leaving. Thanks.”
Marge hugged Decker. “Baby is just beautiful, Pete. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Thanks for coming down, Margie. Get some sleep. Some people have to work in the morning.”
“Three weeks to go, then it’s big time.” Marge gave him a quick salute. “See you in Homicide, big guy.”
“You call us, Akiva, when you see Ginny,” Magda reminded him. “I just want you to tell me she’s okay.”
“I promise, Magda.”
Decker knelt and drew his sons near him. “I want you guys to get some sleep. It’s been a long, torturous day, and we all need our rest.”
They nodded weakly. It was late, and anxiety had sapped their strength.
“Where you go now, Akiva?” Stefan asked.
“Back to the OB lobby. They promised they’d tell me as soon as Rina was out of Recovery. Come on, I’ll walk you to the elevators. Cindy, you’re staying here, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Tell me when you’re done feeding the baby. Don’t you dare walk to your car by yourself.”
“I know, I know—”
“Don’t shine me on, Cynthia. I’m serious.”
“I promise I’ll check in with you.”
“Good.”
“Daddy?”
“What?”
“Does the baby have a name?”
“I think Rina wanted to wait until we named her in synagogue.”
Cindy hesitated. “It just might be nice to call her something. But I don’t want to ruin your tradition.”
Decker thought a moment. “I think Rina mentioned something about naming her Channa Shoshana—Hannah Rose in English.”
Magda erupted into tears. “That was my mother’s name. My mother, Channa, and Stefan’s mother, Shoshana, aleichem hashalom. Gottenu, I hadn’t thought about…” Again, the flood of tears. “Our other granddaughter was named after their side, so this be the first name for my mother.” She hugged her husband. “They’d be so proud, nu, Stefan.”
“Very proud.”
Decker spotted Nurse Bellson’s impatient eyes. They had narrowed, and only part of the green irises were visible.
Panther eyes.
“We’re holding up the show,” he said. “Thank you, Marie. Let’s go.” He kissed Cindy’s cheek. “Bye, princess.”
“Bye, Daddy.”
Cindy watched them go, her father holding the boys’ hands while Magda sobbed on her husband’s shoulder. As soon as the group was out of sight, she felt the heat of Bellson’s glare. The nurse had her twiggy arms twisted across her chest.
“Well, you engineered that one nicely.”
“Can we please be friends?” Cindy asked.
“You don’t trust me to feed the baby?”
“Of course, I trust you, Ms. Bellson. I just feel so sorry for her, her mom being operated on and everything. My father was a basket case about a half hour ago. She’s my sister…my first actual sibling. I’m just trying to help.”
“You’re getting in my way.”
“It’s unintentional. Honestly.”
“Unintentional.” Bellson snorted. “Haven’t you something better to do with your life than hang around here?”
“I’ll be back in school in a week. How’s that?”
“Where?”
“In New York. Columbia University, specifically.”
“UC system isn’t good enough for you?”
“Who can get into UCLA?” Cindy forced herself to smile. “Besides, I’m trying to give my poor mom a break after all these years putting up with me.”
“You don’t get along with your mom?”
Cindy waited a beat before speaking. She sensed that the nurse was hoping she didn’t get along. “Actually, I’m close to both my parents. They lead very different lives, but they’re both good people. I do the best I can.”
Bellson hesitated, then shook her head once again. Her eyes suddenly softened. “I suppose it’s nice what you’re doing for your father. Just don’t step on my toes, all right? I’ve been charge nurse of this unit for ten years. I don’t appreciate people barging in, demanding that I cater to them.”
“I didn’t mean anything. I’m sorry.”
“S’okay.” Bellson uncrossed her arms, letting them slowly drop to her sides. “I do get testy, especially when I’m overworked and understaffed.” She played with a gold class ring on her left hand. “My profession means a lot to me. I put my heart and soul into my babies—all of them. You notice that little Rodriguez baby?”
Cindy nodded.
“Mama’s only fifteen years old—a child with a child. I’ve spent hours with her just teaching her the basics. How to hold her baby, how to feed her, how to change a diaper. Letting her know that what she’s got is a baby and not a doll.”
“That’s very nice of you.”
“It’s because I care. I care about that skinny little thing.” Bellson furrowed her brow. “She was low birth weight because her mother smoked during pregnancy.” She dropped her voice a notch. “And I bet she smoked more than tobacco.”
The nurse smoothed her pape
r gown.
“Anyway, it’s not my position to judge. We’ve all done things we’re not proud of. But it is my position to help. I don’t want that poor little thing going home with an untrained mother. They’re the ones who do damage. One of the things I always tell the mamas: If they don’t want what the good Lord blessed them with, there are hundreds of nice families who’d gladly take the baby off their hands. They should quit their eternal griping and thank Jesus they have a healthy baby.”
Cindy nodded solemnly, thinking that Bellson would have been a great Puritan. She could picture the woman in a Pilgrim’s hat, her reedy body covered by a black dress with a starched white apron, fingers kneading stiff bread dough in a one-room shack heated by a black iron cauldron. Pilgrim Bellson would be an attentive mother—caring—but she’d never crack a smile. The Pilgrim glanced at her watch—the timepiece an anachronism that brought Cindy back to the present.
“I’m running late,” Bellson said.
“My fault, I’m sorry,” Cindy said. “I’ll wait in the nursery and won’t go past the yellow line.”
“Good.” Bellson played with her ring again. “It’s nice what you’re doing for your sister. As long as you remember you’re not the infant’s mother. I hope your stepmother takes your place soon.”
“I hope so, too,” Cindy said. And she meant it.
6
The kick aroused her from a dull sleep. She opened her eyes and was staring at loin-clothed crotch. She couldn’t even tell who the crotch belonged to, because the wall of chest muscle hid the face. The voice told her to get the hell up. For a moment, she panicked. Her heart began to pound, awakening her out of her stupor.
The low one’s come back!
But then the voice was familiar in a positive way.
Mack.
The voice belonged to Mack.
She relaxed.
Back in control.
It was Mack.
Eric was better, but Mack was okay.
“Are you just going to lie around and gather dust like a rug? If you’re a rug, maybe I should take you out and beat you.”
The floor was cold and hard. His intimidation was working. She was feeling appropriately hostile. Lifting heavy weights required the rush, and nothing gave you the rush like hostility. “Shut up!”
