by Chris Taylor
Marjorie’s expression didn’t alter. Instead, she closed the distance between them. Taking Georgie by the elbow, she led her over to the recliner Georgie had so recently vacated and then took a seat opposite.
“Who do you have there?” her mother asked quietly, indicating the baby in Georgie’s arms.
“Nathan Reynolds.”
“Dolley Reynolds’ baby?”
“Yes.”
“How’s he doing?”
“Good, now. He’s been fussing all day, but I’ve finally managed to get him to take almost all of a bottle and he’s gone right off to sleep.”
Marjorie nodded and smiled. “You’re a natural, Georgina. Perhaps now it’s time to give thought to having one or two of your own?”
Georgie tensed. “I had a baby, Mom. You forced me to give him up. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten?”
Her mother tut tutted. “You’re so dramatic, Georgina! Of course I haven’t forgotten. As to forcing you…” She laughed, but the humor failed to reach her eyes. Instead, her gaze hardened. She stared at her daughter.
“Do you have any idea what your life would have been like if I’d let you raise that child? You were barely seventeen! You hadn’t even finished high school! How do you think you would have managed it? And as for college—as if that would have ever happened if you’d had a child to support—there would be no nursing degree, no degree of any kind! You’d be little better than some of the patients who drag themselves in here!”
Georgie’s face flushed with anger. She clenched her jaw tight. Nathan stirred against her and she was sure he could feel her tension. “That’s not fair, Mom. I would have found a way. You and Dad would have helped me. He was your grandson, after all.”
Marjorie scoffed. “Ha! Don’t bet on it! Your father was horrified you were pregnant. If you’d kept the child, he would have cut off any financial support and cleared out your trust fund. There would have been no help from that quarter.”
Georgie gasped in shock, staring at her mother. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She’d come seeking the truth about the babies on Ward Seven. Instead, her life was unraveling before her eyes.
“It was fortunate things didn’t come to that,” her mother continued in a conversational tone. “You saw sense before I was forced to make enlighten you about your father’s attitude, but don’t be mistaken, that threat was imminent and very real. I knew your father. I knew he’d follow through and you’d be forced to support yourself and your baby on your own. Your life as you knew it would be over and you’d never achieve your dreams. I didn’t want that for you. I loved you too much to let you make that choice.”
Georgie shook her head in disbelief. “Love? Is that what you call it?”
“It’s exactly what I call it. I loved you then and I love you now, just like I love your sisters. You’re my children. I’ll love you until I die.”
“Exactly.” Georgie stared at her mother with a narrowed gaze and she could tell by the sudden widening of her mother’s eyes the moment Marjorie understood. Georgie might have been given only moments with her newborn son, but she’d love him for the rest of her life.
“I… I don’t know what you want me to say, Georgina.”
For the first time, Georgie saw fear and uncertainty flood her mother’s face. Her voice, usually strong and authoritative, had weakened to something much less.
“I want you to admit that my son existed; that he still exists. I want you to acknowledge that maybe, just maybe I would have been able to raise him on my own. I want you to admit that you should have given me the chance to prove I could be a mom…and I want you to say you’re sorry that you never gave me the chance.”
Her mother shook her head slowly back and forth, her forehead creased in a frown. “We can’t undo the past, Georgina.”
Georgie sighed heavily. “No, but neither can I pretend it never happened. I had a baby, Mom! I loved him with everything that I had. Not a day goes by when I don’t think of him and wonder how he is. A piece of me was stolen from me the day those papers were signed. I can’t pretend any longer that I’ve moved on, that I’m happy about what you did.”
A sudden wave of anger stained Marjorie’s cheeks. She sat forward in her chair. “What I did? You ungrateful wretch! I did it all for you! I don’t need to re-explain the reasons why. All I can hope is that one day you’ll look back and accept I did what I thought was best.”
Georgie stared at her mom and realized that no matter what Georgie said, her mother would never understand. As far as Marjorie was concerned, being a teenaged Mom was tantamount to bringing your life to an end. It was clear Georgie would never convince her otherwise.
With another sigh, she adjusted the baby in her arms and made a move to leave. She was halfway across the room when she remembered her mom hadn’t answered her initial question. The nerves rushed back again. She stopped and turned and stared at her mother again. “You haven’t answered my question.”
Marjorie lowered her gaze to her hands which were now clenched in her lap. It was a long moment before she looked up. “Which one?”
Georgie’s gaze didn’t waver. “You know which one.”
“We get so many mothers through these doors, Georgina. Every day, every week, every month, every year. An endless procession of wannabes and not so wannabes—young girls and women who have no idea how to care for a baby. And the few who actually want to learn what it takes to be a mother leave here with no support, no framework with which to succeed. They come in, pregnant and wasted on drugs and their innocent babies suffer.” Her voice turned harsher.
“They give birth to these children who are born addicted to drugs or alcohol or both and even though these innocent babies will come through the withdrawal and will rid their system of the drugs, the permanent damage their mother’s lifestyle has caused will never go away. They’ll struggle for the rest of their lives: in school, in social situations. They’ll struggle to control their anger; they’ll struggle to fit in. More often than not, they’ll grow up to be addicts like their mothers and the vicious cycle starts all over again.”
Her mother’s color was high and her breath came fast. Her voice had risen, along with her anger. Georgie frowned in concern, her earlier upset forgotten. “Mom, are you all right?”
“Of course I’m all right,” Marjorie snapped. “It’s just that I get so worked up about the wrongness of it all. Not one of these women are fit and proper mothers. They should never be allowed to fall pregnant, let alone give birth.”
Georgie remained silent, although she had some sympathy for her mother’s position. Every day, the nurses of Ward Seven dealt with the effects of babies born to drug-addicted mothers. It wasn’t a nice sight, but the staff didn’t have the right to play God.
“It’s not for us to say who should be allowed to be a mother and who shouldn’t,” she finally murmured. “Some of these girls want to do the very best they can by their babies. When they hold their newborn in their arms, it’s like the reality of having a child finally sets in. They want to do more to be worthy, get clean and offer their baby a better chance at life.”
“It’s too bad they didn’t think like that the moment they fell pregnant. It would have been a whole lot better for their babies if they’d done more to get clean while they were pregnant than waiting until afterwards, when the poor child’s left with lifelong disabilities.”
The bitterness in Marjorie’s voice took Georgie by surprise. She understood the anguish that came with the reality of working with drug-addicted babies, but she’d never felt bitter toward their mothers. If anything, she felt sorry for the often young girls who gave birth to the children on Ward Seven. Georgie couldn’t help but wonder about the adults in these girls’ lives and where they’d let them down, and why.
If what her mother had just revealed was true, Georgie could have also found herself as a teenager with a newborn, all alone. She still couldn’t believe her father had voiced such an ultimatum, even to her
mom, and she was grateful she hadn’t known about it at the time. She didn’t want to think what choice she would have made under those circumstances. As it was, her mother had managed to convince her on her own, to give the baby up.
“Some of these girls have had a pretty tough life, Mom. It’s not our place to judge,” she said quietly, patting Nathan rhythmically on the back.
“Don’t give me excuses! I can’t abide them,” her mother retorted. “We’re all given choices in this life. Some of us take the easy way out, that’s all it is.”
Georgie frowned, a little disconcerted at her mother’s unforgiving attitude and she couldn’t help but wonder how many of Marjorie’s words were directed at her own flesh and blood. “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?” she said.
“No, I don’t. We’re lucky to live in this country. Free education, free healthcare; low unemployment and opportunities galore. As far as I’m concerned, there’s no excuse to turn to alcohol and drugs. It’s a coward’s way out. To bring an innocent child into the mix is an abomination and one I’ll never condone. If we are to allow these girls to give birth, they should never be permitted to keep them.” Once again, Marjorie’s breath came fast and her face was flushed a dark red.
Georgie stared at her mother like she was a stranger. All of a sudden, she was transported back in time and was listening to the tirade that spewed forth from her mother’s lips as she spoke to Georgie about her baby.
But it wasn’t Georgie her mother was talking about now. It was the women in their care. Georgie had no idea Marjorie felt so strongly about them. Now that she did, she felt confused and more than a little alarmed.
In an effort to rationalize her mother’s strong words, Georgie reminded herself how hard her mom had been working lately, pulling extra shifts. Perhaps Marjorie’s cold stance on the drug-addicted mothers was merely a response to being tired and overworked. Everyone could get irrational when they were sleep deprived. Besides, it wasn’t like this was really personal—Georgie had never turned to drugs.
Nathan stirred for a second time against her shoulder and she hurried to reassure him it was safe to return to sleep. Tossing her mom a troubled look, she gave a brief nod of farewell and quietly left the room.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Hi, Daddy. Thanks for making time to see me.”
Georgie leaned across the table of the hospital cafeteria and forced herself to give her father a peck on the cheek. Up until her mother’s recent revelations, Georgie would have told anyone she and her father were close. After hearing how strongly he’d been against her keeping her baby, she no longer knew what to think. What kind of loving parent could force their child to make such a choice?
The fact that her mother had convinced her to give up her baby, had driven a lifelong wedge between them. Georgie loved and admired her mother for many things, but her feelings weren’t without reservation. She’d been hurt irreparably by her mother’s actions and even though most of the time she accepted Marjorier had been acting in her best interests, it still didn’t eradicate the pain. Now, she discovered her father had been just as adamant that she give her child away. It was an awful jolt to her equilibrium and it would take some time to come to terms with what she’d learned.
Her gaze moved over him. He was well into his sixties, but his tall bearing and athletic physique defied his years. His thick white hair lent him an air of authority and sophistication. Now, his blue eyes twinkled at her in delight. It was obvious he hadn’t yet spoken to her mother.
“I always have time for my first born,” he smiled. He slid a mug of coffee and a chocolate éclair toward her. “I took the liberty of ordering for you.”
“You shouldn’t have. It’s way past lunch. I shouldn’t be eating anything.”
He eyed her slim figure and shook his head. “It looks to me like you don’t eat enough.”
“I eat plenty,” Georgie murmured. Before her recent conversation with her mother, she would have been touched at the obvious signs that he cared. Now, she just wanted to get the meeting over with. As if reading her mind, her father reached for his coffee and then said, “What is it you wanted to see me about, honey?”
Georgie looked down at her hands where they were twisted in her lap. She wasn’t ready to reveal to him that she was now aware of his true feelings about her baby. She’d had enough emotional upheaval for the day.
Until the recent conversation with her mother, although she’d always sensed her father’s approval of her decision to give her son up for adoption, he’d never come right out and expressed his opinion on the subject. She needed time alone to come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t as unconditionally supportive and loving as she’d thought.
But now wasn’t the time or the place. She’d sought him out to talk to him about her concerns about her mother. Knowing there was nothing to do but come right out with it, she took a deep breath and blurted out, “I’m worried about Mom. I think she’s working far too hard. Do you think you could convince her to take some time off?”
“Why? What happened?”
“Nothing happened as such, it’s just something she said. I’m worried that she’s losing a little of her patience and compassion and you know how important those things are in our line of work.”
He shook his head. “Oh, I know, all right. I don’t know how the two of you do it, caring for those people day in, day out.”
“Daddy!” Georgie exclaimed, surprised at his tone of voice. “They’re patients who need our help, like every other patient in this hospital. You ought to know.”
“Of course I do, Georgie,” he hurried to reassure her, patting her hand. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
She stared at him. Once upon a time she would have believed him without question. Now she sought out the truth of his statement in his eyes. He looked away. With a sigh, she picked up her coffee mug and took a sip. It was hot and creamy and sweet, just as she liked it. Pushing aside her disquiet, she sighed in satisfaction. “Thanks for the coffee.”
“You’re welcome. It isn’t every day I receive an invitation to afternoon tea from my daughter.”
“It wasn’t exactly an invitation to afternoon tea,” Georgie grimaced. “I wanted to talk to you about Mom.”
“Yes, that’s right. You think she’s working too hard.”
“It’s not just that. Earlier today, we had a conversation about the mothers on our ward. Mom made it clear that she felt no sympathy for their plight. She became quite upset about the whole thing and even implied the women shouldn’t be allowed to have children or if they do, to keep them.”
Her father’s eyebrows rose in surprise, but he remained silent. His lack of response alarmed her, but then made an awful kind of sense. It reinforced what her mother had told her. He was just as judgemental as his wife.
For all of Georgie’s life, her father had been her rock. It was unsettling to discover her faith in him had been grossly misplaced. Still, she needed reassurance; needed to know her mother wasn’t a lost cause.
“Why would she work on a ward like that if she really felt that way? It doesn’t make sense. I must have misunderstood,” she added a little desperately, waiting for her father to agree.
He shook his head slowly back and forth. “Perhaps she simply cares too much? Did you ever think of it like that? Sometimes when you really care what happens to someone, if it doesn’t work out so well, it can leave you feeling disappointed, like somehow they’ve let you down, like it’s their fault things didn’t work out the way you’d hoped.” He reached over and brushed a stray piece of hair out of her eyes and Georgie couldn’t help but wonder if his words were directed at her.
“Your mom’s a remarkable woman, Georgie and she’s devoted her life to the women and babies who come onto her ward. It might be that, over the years, she’s distanced herself a little from them emotionally for her own sake. Perhaps that’s the only way she can cope. But don’t ever think she doesn’t care, honey. Like I said, I thin
k her problem is that she simply cares too much.”
* * *
Georgie stared out of the large bay window that took up most of one wall of her living room and thought again about her mother. Her shift had ended hours ago and the night had settled in, but despite her father’s reassurances, concern still weighed heavily in her heart. Marjorie had seemed so adamant that their patients shouldn’t be allowed to be mothers. The longer Georgie thought about it, the more she was convinced her mother had meant every word that she’d said—and that knowledge scared her to death.
With her legs curled up beneath her on the couch, she took another sip of her third vodka and lime, and sighed. Just when the future seemed so full of exciting possibilities in the form of one very sexy detective, life had thrown her a curve ball.
She hadn’t heard from Cameron since his call earlier that day and their promised date had yet to materialize. She could only assume he’d been caught up at work. To make matters worse, she’d been so taken aback over her mother’s attitude and the revelations about her dad, she’d forgotten Marjorie hadn’t answered her question about the disconcertingly high number of newborns who had apparently died on their ward.
Had her mom become so sidetracked by her feelings about the down-and-out mothers that she’d simply forgotten to address Georgie’s question, or had she employed deliberate evasive action?
The second possibility settled heavily in Georgie’s heart and filled her belly with unease. She’d hoped her father would calm her fears, but his explanation seemed oversimplified and after what her mother had revealed, she’d never quite trust his judgement again.
The fact was, Georgie probably cared too much, too. It broke her heart to watch tiny babies suffer, through no fault of their own, but that didn’t mean she looked upon their mothers with contempt. If anything, she admired the women for going ahead with the pregnancy. This day and age, termination clinics were readily available. Years ago, the choice of an abortion had also been open to her.
