Faye Kellerman_Decker & Lazarus 06
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9
After she vomited, she felt much better. Mack was nice—helping her into a chair, then wiping her mouth. He took out a Rubbermaid quart container and peeled off the blue lid. Dipping a tablespoon into the hard plastic, he fished up some tan mush.
“Open up.”
“I’m sick.”
“Open up, Tandy. You need your calories.”
She didn’t move.
“You’re really infuriating, you know?”
Mack pried her jaws apart with his thumb and forefinger. She was fighting him, but it was a losing battle. Such unbelievable strength in two little fingers. She couldn’t help but be awed. He force-fed her some mush, pushing the oversized spoon into her mouth. In her different life, she would have gagged. But now she was in control.
Pureed chicken. Wasn’t half bad.
“Come on, Tandy, open all the way up.”
Passively, she complied.
“That’s a good girl.”
Another spoonful.
“How much do I have to eat?”
“The whole thing.”
“Mack—”
“If you want to look right, you have to eat right. Now shut up and open up!”
She paused. “I don’t think that’s physically possible.”
Mack laughed and fed her another spoonful. “You did fair tonight. I’ve seen you do better.”
“I wasn’t at my best.”
“Something on your mind?”
She shrugged.
“What?”
“It’s just work, I guess.”
“Bitches giving you problems?”
“Always.”
“Open up, Tandy. I refuse to let you leave until you’ve had your proper caloric intake. How the hell are you going to build muscle if you don’t give your body fuel?”
“A month ago, Leek put me on eight hundred calories a day for two weeks.”
“A month ago, you were working for the cut. We’re not working for the cut right now, Tandy. We’re going for bulk.”
She sighed but obeyed. After she swallowed, she said, “All this back-and-forth. One minute I feel like a pig, the next minute I’m starving myself.”
“Hey, are you going to let your body control you, or are you going to control your body?”
She was silent.
“Know what I’m saying, Tandy?”
“I know. Rest assured I’m in total control.”
“No one said this was easy. You want easy, don’t come here. Go to the Golden Hotshot Spa and pay a million dollars a day to do it all wrong.”
“I’m not looking for easy, Mack.” She licked her lips. “I’ve never looked for easy. Easy is unhealthy. Maybe it is my work. My other work. I do so much, and no one ever says anything. They take me for granted.”
“The docs, too?”
“No, the docs love me. They know I’m great. It’s the people I work with…the nurses…the head nurses.”
“They’re just jealous, Tandy. They can’t stand the fact that you know more. Probably galls them that you look so good, too.”
She nodded.
Mack presented her with another spoonful. “So don’t pay any attention to them, okay? They’re just laying a trip on you.”
“Sometimes I wish I didn’t have to work.”
“So move in with me or Leek or Eric. We have group grunts. They really get the competitive spirit going.” He paused. “We could set you up with some easy nursing clients. No bureaucracy and lots of side benefits.”
Right, Tandy thought. She knew all about the side benefits à la Leek. Penny-ante stuff. Such mundane fools. “Not for me. But thanks for the offer.”
“Welcome. Open.”
She swallowed the puree. It tasted like gritty soup.
“Besides, my work is important, Mack. People rely on me. I just don’t get any appreciation from the people I work with.”
“Like I said, they’re jealous.”
“But my patients…I’m really important to them.”
“I can dig it.”
“The doctors don’t have the time. It all falls on the nurses.”
Mack began scraping the sides of the container. “People at the hospital ever notice how good you look?”
Tandy twitched. He didn’t understand. Talking to Mack was like talking to wood. But at least he was real. She knew that much.
“Uniforms hide a lot.”
“Uniforms hide these?”
He squeezed her breasts. She yelped with pain.
“God, don’t do that! I’m so sore.”
Gently, he began to touch her, walking his fingers over her breast tissue. But it was more medical than erotic.
“You definitely are swollen.”
“I’m really going to feel it tomorrow.”
“That’s okay. You can only tolerate pain if you have pain.”
“No more.” She pushed aside the spoon and stood. “No more. I’ve got to go to work. Did you get it?”
“Yeah. I mixed it with a little something to take the edge off. I mean, you’re still going to feel sore—gotta feel the soreness—but not like a truck ran over you. How do you want it?”
“Usual, I guess.”
She sighed and dropped on her hands and knees. She felt him pulling off her panties.
“God, you have a wonderful ass.”
“You mean a wonderful pincushion.”
She felt him kissing one of her buns, running his mitt-sized hand over her firm flesh. Mack’s voice had dropped to a whisper. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a woman.”
“I can’t, Mack. Besides, it won’t work. You know that.”
“What a loss….” His voice was low and wolfish. “For both of us.”
Kill him.
Tandy jerked her head up, her eyes snapping open. The suddenness of her motion startled Mack.
“You all right, Tandy?”
Beads of sweat ran down her face. The low one. Or was it? Did she really hear it? Tricks upon tricks upon—
“Tandy?”
“I’m…” She took a deep breath and let out a forced laugh. “I’m…fine. Let’s get on with it. I’ve got to go.”
Gritting her teeth, she didn’t even flinch as she felt the bite of the hypodermic. She rose slowly, her muscles aching. Like an old woman, she hunched her way to the corner, pulled the uniform off the coatrack, and stepped into the white dress.
She looked in the mirror, straighted her collar, and tugged on the hemline. Her developed chest was pulling the dress upward, showing off her long, shapely legs. She flexed and pointed her toes several times, watching her calves expand and contract with each movement.
So graceful. Like a ballet dancer.
Her face had lost some of its color. She steadied her hands and pulled out blush, dabbing her cheeks with a touch of red. She dropped the compact back in her purse and pulled out a brush. Gathering her hair into a ponytail, eyes on her reflection, she knew she was beautiful. It wasn’t Mack’s fault. Mack just couldn’t help himself.
Again she straightened her posture. She was now a model of efficiency in her uniform. She knew she could inspire trust.
That was important. Trust.
She glanced at her watch.
Time to go to work.
10
Darlene edged the last of the layettes into its space in Nursery J, then placed her gloved hands on her hips. Her eyes traveled to the babies, ten of them—two blacks, four Hispanics, three whites, and one Asian—as varied as L.A.’s own population. Each had its own personality, even at this age, but all of them were as precious as an angel’s song.
Not that they sounded like angels. Baby Girl Rodriguez and Baby Girl Jackson were squalling up a storm. Now Baby Boy Yamata…there was a good baby. Quiet. Like his parents.
Squalling up a storm.
The expression made her smile. No one knew squalls like she knew squalls. The late November winds on the lake…a cold so bone-chilling it froze your teeth numb.
She watched the infants for a few minutes without doing anything, observing wide-open mouths and scrunched-up eyes. Baby Girl Rodriguez had cried herself lobster red, fingers balled up into tight fists as she cried to be held. Too bad Darlene had only two arms. Shame women weren’t born octopuses.
Rubbing her arms, she threw a furtive glance over her shoulder. Slowly, her hands reached toward Baby Girl Rodriguez. Teeny little thing. Darlene had cooked chickens that weighed more. But the baby was fully formed and doing well. Cute coffee-bean eyes hidden by locks of silky black hair. The baby quieted as Darlene nestled her into her bosom, patted her little back. Tiny, fragile bones. All of the babies, so small yet perfect human beings. The wonderment of new life. It never failed to amaze her.
She undid BG Rodriguez’s blanket, and the cold blast of air suddenly sent the little girl into another episode of hysterics. Quickly, the nurse took the unclad baby over to the scales.
“Now this’ll only take a minute, honey,” Darlene cooed as she slid the poise over the indicator numbers. BG Rodriguez was still a little under two kilos: She’d need at least another couple of days of hospitalization before she’d weigh enough to go home.
“Stop your bellyaching. We ain’t even at the hard part yet.”
With a firm grip, Darlene lifted the infant from the scales, placed her on the table, and rewrapped her in her blanket. The baby’s loud outbursts quieted to whimpers. On the table was a tray of instruments and a stack of charts. Placing a firm hand on the infant’s stomach, Darlene scanned through the pile until she found BG Rodriguez’s records. She flipped through the papers, looking for additional instructions or orders from the pediatrician. Finding nothing of significance, she wrote in the time and the latest weighing.
The baby was now fully awake, black eyes trying to focus, legs kicking under the covers. Darlene chucked her chin, then carefully liberated a little foot from the swaddle of the blanket.
Tiny foot—as small and soft as a ladyfinger. Little red toes.
Again Darlene took a quick peek over her shoulder. She felt her shoulders tighten as she reached for the instrument tray. It was always tense with the first one. Holding the foot firmly in her grasp, the charge nurse held her breath as she jabbed a razor-sharp needle into the pad of the baby’s heel.
Decker’s own snoring woke him up. He heard himself snort and grunt, then he shook his head in a weak attempt to dislodge his stupor. His bones hurt; his muscles ached with rigidity. He managed to open his eyes, light flooding his retinas. It took him a moment to focus, and when he did, he was shocked to see Rina’s eyes upon him. Quickly, he sat up, swinging his stiff legs over the edge of the cot. He took her hand and kissed it.
“Morning, darling.” He looked at the wall clock. Five fifty-two—morning only in a technical sense. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. It was hot and dry. “How do you feel?”
Rina’s lids fluttered, but she kept her eyes open. “How’s…our baby?”
“Gorgeous!” Decker tried to sound upbeat. “Beautiful just like you.”
“Tell me.”
“Well…” Decker cleared his throat. “She’s big and robust and beautiful and alert. Definitely the best kid in the whole hospital.”
Rina’s lips formed a weak smile. “I want to hold her. Hold my baby.” Her eyes grew wet. “But I can’t, can I?”
“Of course you can hold her. You’ll spend hours holding her. But first you’ve got to recuperate.”
“From the surgery,” Rina whispered.
“Yes, from the surgery,” Decker said. “Go back to sleep, honey. It’s the best thing for you now.”
Rina turned away, then faced him again. “Something’s…” She swallowed hard. “Something’s wrong, Peter.”
“I’ll call the nurse—”
“No,” Rina cried hoarsely. “That’s not what I meant.”
Decker felt his head spin. “Doctor says you’re going to be fine, Rina. But you need to rest…relax. The only thing you should be concerned about is getting your strength back. Now I’m ordering you to close your eyes and go back to sleep.”
Rina attempted a deep breath, her face contorting from the effort. “I’m not bleeding normally. Not like the others…” She winced. “And the miscarriages, too. It’s not normal.”
Decker squelched a wave of nausea. “Rina, you’re so tired. Go to sleep, honey.” His voice was making tinny echoes in his ear. “I’ll be here when you wake up. You’ll feel better after you sleep.”
“Your face.” Her voice was so raspy. “You’re not looking at me. Tell me.”
Decker couldn’t talk, paralyzed by exhaustion and fright.
“What’s wrong with me, Peter?”
“Nothing’s wrong, honey.”
Immediately, he regretted the false words. He had to tell her. He couldn’t let her think she was the same as before, only to have her psyche destroyed later on. She’d never forgive him. As much as he dreaded the task, he knew he had to confess. He forced himself to look in her eyes. They’d become deep blue pools.
“I love you, baby.”
“What is it, Peter?”
He kissed her hand again, then whispered, “Rina, you had a hysterectomy. That’s the reason you’re not bleeding normally.”
She didn’t react.
After some false starts, he finally found his voice. “Rina, we have a lovely, lovely family. A beautiful new baby…a real gift from God. We have to remember that.”
She said nothing, her eyes resting blankly on his face.
“I know how you must feel…no, I don’t know how you feel. I don’t know what I’m talking about.”
He kissed her hand again.
“Rina, the truth is, I’m an old man. I mean, who wants to be playing sandlot ball when you’re fifty, right?”
Her expression reflected his stupidity. He knew he should just shut up, but the jitters kept his vocal cords humming overtime.
“I know how you feel about kids, honey. And I love kids, too. We’ve got to look at it this way. We have three beautiful, healthy children; I’ve got a nearly grown daughter. Babies are wonderful, but it’s nice when the kids grow up and are big—on their own. Give us a little special time…we haven’t had a lot of that, you know?”
Nothing.
“Rina, four kids can be a real stretch on the pocketbook. Private schools, then college. Man, I can’t believe what it cost to send Cindy through one year of Columbia….”
He was babbling. But it didn’t matter, because none of his words were really registering with her.
“Honey, I know it’s hard to have perspective. But…but try to think about how blessed we are to have a beautiful, healthy baby daughter—”
“Peter, I’m only thirty years old!”
And then came the tears, the sadness so pure and honest it mercifully muzzled his moronic ramblings. He brought her face against his chest, and she sobbed on his shoulder.
“It stinks, Rina,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so, so sorry!”
The information was too devastating to handle consciously. Eventually, she cried herself to sleep.
Holding his daughter, Decker felt comforted. There really was something to be grateful for. If only Rina could hold Hannah. He knew the contact—the bonding—would lift her spirits.
The baby slept as he rocked her—a perfumed package tucked in the crook of his arm. Decker kissed her forehead through his mask, his coffee-laced breath recirculating through his lungs. It wasn’t unpleasant—beat the early-morning sourness in his stomach. Rabbi Schulman had come as soon as he called. He was with Rina now, watching her sleep, giving Decker a chance to see his daughter without worryi
ng about his wife.
Decker hadn’t out-and-out told the rabbi what had happened to Rina, but the old man had figured it out by what wasn’t being said. Decker felt bad discussing Rina without her consent, but he made a judgment call, hoping it was the correct decision. In the past, the old man had always been a source of comfort for both of them.
Cindy pulled up a chair beside him. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”
Decker smiled under his mask. “I only make beautiful girls.”
Cindy gave a soft laugh. “You look…serene, Daddy.”
“Babies do that to you. Brings back lots of memories of when you were born, kid. It was hot and muggy, and I remember thinking your mom was going to dehydrate if I didn’t get her to the hospital. I can’t believe that was nineteen years ago. Where does the time go?” Decker chuckled. “That’s swell. Now I’m sounding like an old geezer. Stop me before I become my father.”
Cindy laughed. Decker looked at his elder daughter’s face, at the dark circles under her eyes.
“You didn’t go home last night, did you?”
“I fell asleep. I rested.”
“Go home, princess. Rabbi Schulman is with Rina. I’ll wait for Rina’s parents to take a shift.”
“They just arrived with the boys not more than five minutes ago. They’re waiting to see the baby. You should put Hannah in the layette so Nurse Simms can wheel her into the window area.”
“Oh, sure.” Decker stood, then settled the sleeping infant in her cart. He draped an arm around Cindy. “Did you ask Mrs. Elias if she’d stay with Hannah?”
“Yeah. She said she’d be delighted.” Cindy lowered her head. “Guess I’m not needed anymore.”
“Princess, you’ve been an enormous help these last eighteen hours. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“If you want, I’ll come back after Mrs. Elias leaves.”
“Yes, I’d like you to very much. You and Nurse Bellson work things out?”
“Not really. She still hates me. I can’t figure out why.”
“Don’t bother. It’s her problem, not yours.”
Cindy smiled, but she was clearly troubled.
“What’s wrong?” Decker asked.