“How is Julie?” she asked. “Has she been much trouble?”
“Trouble?” Nanette asked, her white eyebrows rising. “That child is an angel! She jes’ sat herself down with her things to do, and we’ve barely heard a peep from her.”
The triage nurse waved Samantha down.
“Julie drew a picture for me,” Maria said, holding it out. “How old is that child? Isn’t this rather advanced for her?”
“Julie is . . . . nine,” Samantha said, hesitating as she realized she didn’t exactly know Julie’s age.
She took the picture from the nurse. It depicted a yellow house with a green roof, on a seashore. The waves had been drawn and colored so carefully that they actually seemed to be moving. There was a black dog running along the beach, holding a stick. A little girl was chasing him, the wind blowing her hair across her face. In the distance, Julie had drawn a concession stand, complete with an awning surrounded by blue dolphins.
Samantha studied the picture a few moments, feeling a little strange. Something was familiar about it, but she couldn’t decide what. When Maria spoke again, she pushed the feeling aside and handed her the picture.
“It’s pretty amazing,” she said. “But Julie is a remarkable child. She’s a genius.”
“I believe it,” Maria said.
Samantha found Julie busy drawing more pictures—with both hands. Samantha’s surprised gasp announced her presence. Julie turned around, then smiled.
“Hi,” she said cheerily. “Do you want to see the drawings I made?”
“I’d love to,” Samantha said, walking to the table. She shook her head in wonder. “That’s amazing. I’m ambidextrous myself, but I certainly can’t use both hands at exactly the same time.”
Julie thought a moment, then spoke as if she were reading from a dictionary.
“Am-bi-dex-trous. Capable of using both hands equally well.”
“That’s right.” Samantha nodded. She laughed. “You’ll be able to do two homework assignments at one time.”
“Am I going to school soon?” Julie asked. “I’d like to meet some other children.”
“Oh, no,” Samantha said. “I’m sure you’ll return to school once we find your family. But there’s no need to worry about it for now.”
She quickly changed the subject.
“So, what have you been doing all morning? These drawings are lovely.”
She studied each picture, amazed at the details. It was as if a much older person had drawn them, instead of a child of nine. She half-expected the feeling of déjà vu she’d experienced with the beach picture to come back, but it never did.
“I’ve been drawing a lot,” Julie said. “And I did half the crosswords in that book.”
“Half!” Samantha cried. She picked up the book and glanced through it. Sure enough, most of the crosswords were finished, and what little she could scan showed they were done correctly. “Julie, you finished fourteen crosswords in just a few hours, on top of everything else?”
Julie wasn’t impressed with herself. “I would have done them all, but sometimes the nurses would come in and talk. It was more fun listening to them. One nurse had come down from upstairs, and she was telling her friend about twin babies that were delivered this morning. One of them was transverse breach, so they had to come out by cesarean.”
Samantha nearly dropped the crossword book.
“Do you understand any of that?”
“Sure,” Julie said. “Transverse means the baby’s back was pointing down instead of his head. And cesarean means—”
“I know what it means, sweetie,” Samantha said. This little girl would never fail to amaze her. “Julie, do you like babies?”
Julie nodded eagerly. “Maybe there’s a baby in my family?”
“That could be,” Samantha said, wondering if this was another piece to the Julie puzzle. “But I was wondering: would you like to see the babies upstairs?”
“Oh, yes!”
Samantha smiled at Julie’s eagerness. “Well, my good friend Dr. Huston works up there. Maybe she’s the one who delivered the twins. I have just a few more patients to see before my lunch break. Then we can go upstairs together, and you can take a peek in the nursery.”
“I’d like that a lot,” Julie said.
Samantha patted her head gently.
“Then it’s settled,” she said. She looked at the paraphernalia on the table. “Can you hold out for just another hour?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll be back for you when I’m finished with my morning rounds,” Samantha said. “See you later.”
When Samantha left, Julie went to the refrigerator and took out a container of juice. She poured some into a paper cup, returned the carton, and sat down again. As she drank the juice, she began to work on another puzzle.
She had noticed how astonished all the adults were when they saw the things she could do.
Am I really that different? she asked herself. She didn’t feel different.
Suddenly she remembered the boy named Marty. When he had rescued her in that crazy dream, he had said there were other children like her.
Julie did not consider Marty to be merely part of her vision. To her he was as real as the nurses who walked in and out of this lounge. She wondered if she would ever hear from him again, and if she’d ever meet the others he had mentioned. He had said she was special, but what did he mean?
She closed her eyes and tried to call him, but he did not answer. Sighing, she returned to the puzzle book.
Before she knew it, an hour had gone by. Throughout this time, Julie’s concentration was never broken by the sound of voices over the PA system or screaming ambulance sirens. She was able to block out these distractions without effort.
Expecting Samantha to return any moment to take her up to the nursery, she began to clean up the table. Once this job was finished, she went to the door and opened it. The emergency room was a flurry of activity, people rushing to and fro with serious, determined expressions. Maria, the triage nurse, was busy interviewing people. There were about fifteen teenagers here, some crying, some dazed, others being carried swiftly on stretchers.
“What happened?” Julie asked. Maria did not seem to notice her.
She felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Don’t you fret, little one,” Nanette said. “There’s been a bus acs’dent. Your . . . Dr. Winstead will be busy for a while.”
“But it’s lunchtime,” Julie protested. “We were going to see the babies.”
“I’m sure you’ll see them later,” Nanette promised. “In the meantime, it ain’t fittin’ for a little girl to go hungry. Would you like me to take you up to the lunchroom?”
Julie hesitated.
“I’m sure Dr. Winstead won’t mind.”
“Okay,” Julie said.
A short while later, Julie was set up with a lunch tray in the cafeteria. Nanette excused herself, saying she had to get back to work. Left alone, Julie ate her lunch in silence, studying the people around her. No one paid much attention to her. When she finished, she decided to make her way back to the emergency room.
While waiting for the elevator, she read the floor directory. She noticed that the maternity ward was just one flight up.
Maybe I can just go up myself, Julie thought. Samantha won’t mind. I’ll look for that Dr. Huston. I won’t get in anyone’s way.
Maybe, she decided, justifying her actions, Samantha was already up there waiting for her.
Since visiting hours hadn’t begun, the elevator was empty. When she stepped onto the second floor, no one noticed her. Samantha read the visiting-hours sign on the metallic doors. It wasn’t anywhere near one o’clock, but she didn’t let that stop her. Instead, she pushed open the door and went off in search of babies.
She saw a nurse working at a desk, and heard the distant moans of a woman in labor. But then she heard a baby’s cry, and turned in the opposite direction. The walls of the maternity ward were painte
d a soft blue, with murals depicting scenes from Mother Goose. Julie read a sign marked “Nursery” and followed the arrow around a hallway. To her disappointment, the shades were drawn in the nursery windows. She could hear babies crying, but try as she might, she couldn’t catch a glimpse of the newborns.
Sighing, she turned around and decided she’d better wait until Samantha brought her up. But as she rounded the hall, she noticed a windowed door she hadn’t seen before. She went up to it and looked in, but all she could see was strange machinery.
The sign on the door said “NO ADMITTANCE, HOSPITAL PERSONNEL ONLY.”
Well, she thought, that couldn’t apply to her. She was supposed to see the babies—Samantha said so. Without a moment’s hesitation, she pushed open the unlocked door, and unwittingly entered the preemie ward. It was actually a group of rooms, all encased in glass and all with similar machinery. There were glass boxes too, which Samantha didn’t recognize. The ones in this particular room were currently empty. Through the windows Julie saw two nurses, about three rooms away, talking. In the room directly next to this one, a man and woman stood over a glass box, looking very sad. Julie wondered what they were sad about. But she was more interested in finding the babies.
There didn’t seem to be any in this room, so she decided to search elsewhere. But then a tiny mouselike cry made her turn sharply. She realized at once it had come from behind a curtain. Slowly, curious, she walked over to it. She pulled the curtain aside to find a glass box that held an impossibly tiny infant. For a moment Julie kept her distance. She felt scared suddenly, as if something bad was going to happen.
But its just a baby! she told herself firmly.
She made herself walk closer, made herself look down at the doll-like infant. It had a little white knit cap on its head, and wore a simple cotton undershirt and diaper. Blue-violet light shone down on it, to help fight jaundice.
Julie smiled at the tiny but beautiful infant. But her smile quickly faded when she noticed the wires attached to various parts of the baby’s body.
As if she’d been struck, she fell back against the curtain, knocking over a chair. This wasn’t a good thing. It was bad, terribly bad. . . .
Wires. Something bad about the wires. Someone was yelling at her to get in the box or she would die.
Julie had to get away. She had to find a safe place. She had to run, to hide.
She raced from the nursery as fast as she could, drawing the attention of a doctor making rounds. Barbara Huston called out to the little girl, but Julie did not hear her. She simply ran blindly, trying desperately to get away from the wires and glass boxes.
13
LORRAINE SLEPT SOUNDLY all the night, and was awakened the next morning by clanking sounds. She sat up in the sofa bed, rubbed her eyes with chubby fists, and looked across the room. Bettina was fixing breakfast.
“Good morning, child,” she said. “Come have some eggs.”
Lorraine joined the old woman at the rickety table.
“Did you sleep well last night?” Bettina asked.
Lorraine shook her head.
“I had a bad dream,” she said. “I kept dreaming about that man I saw.”
Bettina thought a moment before speaking.
“Maybe he’s a member of your family,” she suggested. “He could be a mean stepfather—or even your real father. There must be some reason why you know him, and why he frightens you. Maybe he was cruel, and beat you.”
“I don’t know,” Lorraine said doubtfully. “It didn’t feel like I was looking at my father, or anybody like that. He just looked like someone I know, someone bad.”
She stared into her Cheerios for a few moments, then bopped her head up quickly, her eyes wide.
“I know!”
“You know?” Bettina echoed. “Do you mean you remember?”
Lorraine frowned. “No, I wish I did. But maybe that man down there is a kidnapper! Maybe he stole me away from my family and gave me bad medicine to make me forget everything. Maybe there’s a ransom!”
Bettina laughed.
“No, really!” Lorraine insisted. “You said I had nice clothes, didn’t you? Maybe I come from a really nice family and they’re looking for me! And if you bring me back, you’ll get a big reward and you’ll never be poor again.”
“Oh, child,” Bettina said. “What an imagination! Surely, if you were a rich family’s child, they would have found you by now.”
“But they don’t know where to look!”
“There hasn’t been anything in the newspaper,” Bettina said. “Or on television. And the police do know where to find us if your family turns up. Don’t you remember, I called them?”
Lorraine’s face fell. Her hopes of being reunited with her family were destroyed for the moment, and tears welled up in her eyes.
“I just want to go home, no matter where it is!”
“Please don’t cry,” Bettina said, pushing her chair back. It made a screeching noise across the tile floor. “Look! I bought a few things for you at the store last night. I don’t want you to be bored.”
She lifted a paper bag onto the table.
“Look: crayons, paper, puzzles, a book. And here’s a little doll you can dress up.”
Lorraine took the doll box in her hands. It was an inexpensive plastic teen doll, and it came with a wardrobe of minuscule fashions.
“We’ll only hide out for a few days,” Bettina promised. “It will be okay, you’ll see. You trust me, don’t you?”
Lorraine nodded.
“Then dry your tears and finish your breakfast,” Bettina ordered. ‘And when we’re through cleaning up, we can enjoy our little home together. Our safe little home.”
Lorraine did as she was told, then took the fashion doll out of the box and began to play with it. Bettina produced a pair of knitting needles and some yam that she had also purchased the night before. She took these to the couch and soon the bare room was filled with the sound of clicking needles. In time, the steady noise, accompanied by boredom, made Lorraine’s head nod forward. She fell fast asleep on the table.
But it was a quick sleep, interrupted by a scratching at the window. Groggily, hardly aware of Bettina sitting on the couch, Lorraine shuffled over to see what was making the noise. When she saw a cat on the fire escape, sympathy filled her heart, and she began to unlatch the window. The cat went on scratching and meowing.
“Don’t worry,” Lorraine said. Her voice sounded strange to her, as if she were speaking in a tunnel. “I’ll save you.”
She turned to look at Bettina, wondering if the old woman would disapprove. But Bettina did not seem to hear her.
Lorraine turned and pulled open the window. She reached out for the cat . . .
. . . but it was a human hand that grabbed her. The man from the street was on the fire escape! Lorraine screamed, pulling away from him. He held fast, and somehow she pulled him right into the room with her! He laughed, holding up a black cord.
“Bettina! Bettina!”
But the old woman still did not answer.
Lorraine screamed and fought as the man wordlessly began to tie her with the cord. Why wasn’t Bettina helping her?
Wake up, you’re dreaming!
“Bettina!”
Lorraine, it’s Marty. Wake up. You’re just having a dream. Wake up. Wake up!
Lorraine spoke to him in her mind.
It’s not a dream. He’s real!
No, he isn’t. You’re just remembering a bad person.
From where?
I can’t tell you yet. Just wake up and you’ll be okay.
Marty, I’m scared! He’s hurting me!
Then listen to me! Wake up and he’ll stop!
At last the strange boy’s words got through to the terrified little girl. She jolted herself awake, and found she was still sitting at the kitchen table, doll clothes strewn all around her. Hearing Lorraine’s gasp, Bettina turned around.
“What is it, child?”
“I
. . . I guess I fell asleep.”
“So early in the day?” Bettina asked worriedly. “I hope you aren’t ill.”
“I’m fine,” Lorraine said, forcing a smile.
“Well, all right . . .”
Bettina returned to her knitting. Lorraine tried to call Marty back to her, but he was gone again.
Who was he? the little girl wondered. And who was that terrible man?
14
EVERYTHING SEEMED to be back to normal when Tati woke up the next morning. She could hear Helga singing in the kitchen, and the house was full of wonderful breakfast smells. While Olivia went on sleeping, Tatiana crept quietly from the room and downstairs. She hoped she had beat Steven awake, so she could have a few minutes with her parents. When she entered the kitchen and saw no sign of Steven, she began to believe this was going to be an okay day.
“Good morning, Tati,” her father said. “Did you sleep okay last night?”
“I guess so,” Tatiana said.
She sat down and Helga put a plate of blintzes in front of her. They were Tatiana’s favorite kind, made with bits of fruit. She smiled at Helga, and the German woman stroked her cheek for just a moment before returning to work.
Tatiana looked around.
“Did Steven go home this morning?” she asked. “Did you find his family?”
“It’s a little early in the morning for that,” Eric said. “Steven is asleep upstairs.”
Tatiana tried to be annoyed about this, but everything was going so well that she couldn’t.
“Well, I decided something,” she announced. “It’s okay for Steven to have my bed. I know it’s only for a few days.”
Rachel put her coffee cup down and turned to look at her daughter.
“You don’t understand, do you?” she said. “Steven may be here much longer than a few days. It could take months to find his family.”
“Months?” There was worry in Tatiana’s voice. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Steven—he’d been nice to help her with her homework—it was just that she wanted things to be the way they’d always been.
Cries of the Children Page 8
