Zoe bundled Jaime up in a blanket and took her to the hospital in a cab. The fever was already down to 102.1 by the time they got there, Zoe said she’d given her baby aspirin. It wasn’t an excessive fever for a sick child her age. She didn’t have another seizure in the ER, but Cathy decided to admit her for the night so they could observe her in case she had another one, and Zoe could stay at the hospital with her. She texted Fiona and told her she’d let her know when they were coming home. She didn’t text Austin, so as not to worry him. Cathy said Jaime wasn’t in danger, and there was nothing he could do.
Cathy left after they settled Jaime into bed. She was asleep within minutes, as Zoe sat in a chair and watched her, and the nurses made up a bed for her. They were impressed by how attentive she was. She didn’t leave Jaime for an instant. The fever came down during the night without incident, and no further seizures. Zoe reported the whole episode to Austin by text when they got home. Fiona was waiting for them. And Zoe went to take a shower and dress for work.
Austin called her when she was in the cab, and asked about the seizure. She said that Cathy had said that febrile seizures weren’t dangerous even if they looked frightening, which Zoe said it had.
“I wish I’d been there,” he said, sounding unhappy and guilty for being away. “I’ll be home late tonight. I’m sorry I wasn’t with you.”
“She’s fine. Her fever was normal when we left the hospital this morning. She’s on antibiotics for the earache. It’s just a nasty flu.” Zoe had been sick with a cold the week before, but without earache or fever, and they agreed Jaime must have caught the cold from her, which left her vulnerable to the flu.
He was happy to come home to his girls late that night, and Jaime looked bright eyed and lively the next morning when he saw her, and her earache seemed to be better. He watched her on Saturday while Zoe did errands, and his mother came by for a visit. Austin told her that Jaime had been in the hospital for a night with flu and a high fever, and had had a seizure at home, and his mother looked worried. They put Jaime down for a nap after Constance had played with her for a while, and it gave them a chance to talk before Zoe got back. Constance had been wanting to say something to him for a while.
“I’m worried about Jaime,” she said gently, and looked at her son with troubled eyes, not sure how to approach the subject. She had a doctorate in psychology, but hadn’t used it professionally, and it was challenging to broach sensitive topics with one’s own adult children. “She gets sick a lot, and injured,” she said cautiously.
“According to our pediatrician, whom I trust, she’s delicate because of her size as a toddler and her age, but she’s also very active and curious and fearless. That’s a tough combination. And some of it is just bad luck.”
“It seems to be. I had three boys, and you were all very active, but we never had the number of injuries with the three of you that Jaime has had in eighteen months.” She tried not to sound judgmental but was concerned.
“I’ve thought of that myself, Mom. And in part, I think Jaime is just a busy kid. And we end up in the ER a lot because Zoe is hyper-vigilant and very nervous. I think losing a sister who was so young marked her deeply. She’s terrified that something could happen to Jaime.” It was easy to explain that way, and made sense to him.
“Maybe she’s not vigilant enough, just nervous. There are only a handful of reasons why children get hurt that often, and Jaime has had some real injuries, stitches, a broken arm, sprains, a lot given her age, more than her fair share. Children get hurt from child abuse, which I know isn’t an issue in this case, with the two of you, and Jaime has gotten hurt more often with you than the nanny, so it’s not that. Negligence or poor supervision is another reason, parents or caretakers who don’t watch children closely enough, or underestimate the risks of what they’re doing. I don’t know how closely you and Zoe watch her, but she sounds like a child who needs close supervision if she’s that active, and Zoe watches her like a hawk whenever I see her with Jaime. But there are other more complicated, less obvious, psychological reasons that could be an issue here. Maybe related to her sister’s death when they were both children, or some trauma with Zoe’s parents. I don’t think she had an easy time of it when her sister was sick, and afterward when they got divorced. Her mother told me at the wedding, in confidence, that she was a basket case herself for years after Zoe’s sister’s death, and after she and Zoe’s father split up. He remarried very quickly, and had two more children. Zoe must have felt completely abandoned growing up, and it’s hard to say how that scars someone.” She was being very careful about what she said, so as not to offend Austin, who was a deeply loyal person and loved his wife.
“What are you saying, Mom? That Zoe has a screw loose, or neglects our daughter?” He looked hurt as he said it, and Constance’s internal yellow flags went up, to advance with great delicacy.
“I don’t know what I’m saying, or seeing, except what I said, that Jaime gets hurt a lot and it worries me.”
“It worries me too. And maybe I’m the guilty party here,” he said valiantly. “Maybe I’m not as careful as I should be.” But she hadn’t gotten hurt with him. She had only gotten injured with Zoe, in the bath, in the park, the gate she wouldn’t let him put up because of her crazy theories about “respecting Jaime,” the febrile seizure when he was away on business. But he didn’t like what his mother was intimating. “Zoe loves Jaime more than anything in the world, even more than she loves me sometimes. She wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.” He sounded defensive and Constance knew she’d lost the battle, but at least she had planted a seed in his mind. She hoped he’d think about it. Someone had to.
“Of course not,” Constance said innocently. “I can see how much she loves her. Maybe the rules just have to be a little tighter, or the boundaries,” she suggested, and Austin relaxed when she said it.
“That’s a whole other story. She believes in freedom and respect, even for babies. She thinks rules are abusive, and gates are for dogs. She thinks Jaime should have the freedom to go where she wants and do what she wants. I don’t agree with her, but Zoe is adamant about it,” and then he admitted something to his mother. “We fight a lot on the subject. I don’t want Jaime to get hurt either, even if Zoe thinks rules are disrespectful to her at eighteen months. It’s a philosophical issue, and I strongly disagree with her.” Constance was relieved to hear it.
“I hope she gives it some thought, before Jaime gets injured more seriously.” They both knew it was not an easy subject to bring up with Zoe. She was very touchy about her theories on child rearing, and rigid about them.
“I hope so too, Mom,” he said sincerely. “Thank you for worrying about it. Everyone in the ER knows us by our first names. That tells me something too. Maybe things will get regulated better when Jaime starts preschool,” but that was a year and a half away, a long time to wait, and expect someone else to lay down rules for Jaime, because her mother refused to. And yet she had been so heartbroken and remorseful when Jaime broke her arm, because Zoe wouldn’t let him put up a gate on the stairs. She knew she had been wrong, but only after Jaime got hurt. “Anyway, just know that it’s a work in progress but it’s not an easy negotiation, with someone with ideas as strong as Zoe’s.”
“Her ideas are too modern for me,” Constance said simply.
“For me too sometimes,” he admitted. Zoe came home a short time later, and after a few minutes of polite chitchat, Constance left. It hadn’t been a bad conversation with her son, but she didn’t know if it would be fruitful, or if he had any influence over Zoe. It didn’t sound like it.
Constance brought it up to her husband that night but as always, he was skeptical about Constance’s psychological theories. He saw things more pragmatically, without looking deeper.
“I don’t think lack of supervision is the issue,” he said simply. “Every time I see her with Jaime, she’s on top of her
, she hardly lets the poor kid breathe.”
“She’s very attached to her,” Constance conceded, “and appears to be a doting mother. But that doesn’t mean she’s careful enough. There’s some reason why that child keeps getting hurt, and sick. Think about it, not one of our other grandchildren has had everything happen that she has, and she’s only eighteen months old, and a girl, and girls are usually less active. Think of your own sons, they never had constant injuries, broken bones and stitches, or had to go to the hospital. None of them has ever had a seizure.”
“Maybe she’s just fragile,” he said, which wasn’t impossible either. But in that case, she was very fragile to an alarming degree. “What are you thinking, really?” he asked his wife and she hesitated. She knew he would pooh-pooh it, and Austin would too, for different reasons.
“If I told you what I’m thinking, you’d say I’m crazy,” she said hesitantly, and he nodded.
“You’re probably right,” he admitted, “if it’s one of your complicated, academic psychological theories that never make sense to me. You know what they say, ‘If you hear hoofbeats, don’t look for zebras.’ The right answers are usually pretty simple. Don’t go looking for convoluted reasons, Connie. Our son and his wife probably don’t supervise their kid properly, and need to watch her more effectively, even if he is our son. It could be as simple as that. Don’t make yourself crazy trying to figure it out. And whatever the reason for Jaime’s injuries, there isn’t a damn thing we can do about it.” Listening to her husband, Constance knew it was true. He had a way of breaking things down to the basics. She was their child, and they got to make the rules. It didn’t matter who was responsible for her injuries. It had been heartening to hear from Austin that he was trying to talk Zoe out of some of her absurd theories too. Maybe that was all Constance could do. As a grandmother, she got to sit on the sidelines, sometimes in a front row seat, and say as little as possible, or even nothing at all. She knew from experience that Zoe didn’t welcome comments and advice from her mother-in-law.
Constance had understood that as soon as Jaime was born and Zoe couldn’t work out the nursing, but she wanted no advice from her or anyone, even her sisters-in-law, just from “specialists,” whose theories sounded as off base as Zoe’s. All Connie could do was pray and hope that they would get more sensible about parenting and the simple rules of safety regarding Jaime. Beyond that, she could do absolutely nothing, except what she had done today. Plant a seed with Austin, and hope it would grow.
* * *
—
For several weeks, Zoe was busy with some reorganization at the children’s shelter that involved changes of staff, new systems and techniques they were adopting, a new computer setup, and a board meeting. Zoe had to work late several nights, Austin was home alone with Jaime, and he really enjoyed it. She was a bright, affectionate little girl, and he loved spending time with her, and taking care of her.
Thanks to Zoe, all his wishes had come true. He had a wife he loved deeply, and a beautiful little daughter. He could tell how bright she was, even though she couldn’t speak clearly yet. She said a lot of words. He could hardly wait until she could communicate with them in sentences. Then she’d really be fun. She was more daunting as a baby, when he didn’t know what to do with her. But the older she got, the more he enjoyed her. Fatherhood was everything he had hoped it would be and more, even if it had been confusing in the beginning.
* * *
—
When Zoe got home that night, she told him about the changes they were implementing at the shelter. Since he was on the board, he would hear about them at the upcoming board meeting, but he liked the insider information he got from Zoe. They were getting more hardcore cases from the courts now, children who had been severely physically abused, some of whom came to them directly from hospitals after they’d been injured, and many of whom were too damaged to put into foster care, and couldn’t adapt to normal family life. A number of them had been serially raped by older family members, even their fathers, brothers, and uncles. Some had been viciously attacked by their mothers and had crippling defects as a result. One had been blinded by bleach sprayed in her eyes. In dealing with all of them, Zoe showed remarkable wisdom, dignity, and compassion, and great medical judgment. She also had a strong alliance with several judges who trusted her implicitly and admired the way she ran the shelter.
As Austin listened to her, he remembered everything that he loved and admired about her, and how remarkably capable she was. There were few women he respected as much as he did Zoe, except maybe his mother, who was the smartest woman he knew. He could sense that his mother didn’t understand Zoe. She was so discreet and so modest, she rarely talked about her work and all that she accomplished. He often wished that his family knew more about her, but much of what she shared with him was confidential. She was the soul of discretion, and incredibly humble. He often thought that her own suffering as a child helped her understand the children she worked with. She knew about human suffering more than anyone he’d ever met, including some of his clients.
She asked him to take on three new court cases for them, during her reorganization. She wanted to see some of the offending parents brought to justice, and wanted him to be the advocate for the injured children, guiding them through the process. He was brilliant at what he did, and incredibly compassionate with the children.
The board meeting that came after Zoe’s months and final weeks of revision was electric, it was so exciting. Even he hadn’t realized how much she was doing, how lofty her goals were, and her ultimate vision for the children. She was organizing an alliance with a school, to ensure that their clients had a real education, which would prepare them for a better life in the future. Several people cried at the board meeting, they were so moved by what she was doing, and how powerfully she was implementing her plans for the shelter and how eloquently she expressed them. Austin was proud to be a part of it, and to be her husband. At the end of the board meeting, he looked at her, and remembered his mother’s concerns about the reason for Jaime’s frequent injuries, and if there was some hidden psychological reason in Zoe for them. He realized now that wasn’t even remotely possible. She was the most extraordinary woman he had ever known. She was the kindest, best, most honorable woman he knew and the champion of abused children. His mother had no idea how remarkable she was. Whatever his mother’s concerns were, he realized fully now that they were absurd. Zoe was as close as it got on earth to being a saint. And he was the luckiest man on earth to be married to her, and Jaime the luckiest little girl on earth to have her as her mother. Austin had total faith in Zoe as a woman, a wife, and a mother.
Chapter 7
For Jaime’s first birthday party, they had had a small family celebration. It was really more for the parents anyway, Austin and Zoe had decided. So they had a cake for her with two candles in it, one “to grow on,” and Connie and George had come by for a slice of cake and to wish them well.
But for Jaime’s second birthday, Zoe decided to go all out. She invited Austin’s parents, his brothers, and their wives and children. Her father and Pam were going to be in town to see his agent, and they had promised to come by. Their children weren’t going to be with them. Christopher had graduated from UCLA the previous year, and had an internship with a graphic designer in London. He was an artist like his father. And Ashley was a senior at Northwestern. Beth had come to meet Jaime once, but admitted to Zoe that it was painful for her. It brought back too many memories to be close to a child that age. She saw children every day in the ICU where she worked, but that was different. This was too close to home, and the memories it brought back were too much for her. And Zoe didn’t go to San Francisco for the same reasons. They were each part of a painful past that both of them had put to rest. It was easier just talking on the phone, and on Skype occasionally. Zoe and her father had overcome the painful past and never talked about it. Pam had helped him deal wi
th it. Zoe was able to have a superficial relationship with her father, and saw him when he came to New York on business. And he had promised to be there on Jaime’s birthday, which coincided with his meetings with his agent and publisher.
Cathy Clark had become Zoe’s closest female friend and was coming too. She enjoyed both Austin and Zoe, and wished there were more parents like them in her practice. They were so caring and concerned, and doted on their daughter. It was always a pleasure for Cathy to spend time with them, and Jaime was an adorable little girl and the image of her mother.
She had stopped getting hurt every five minutes in the last six months and was steady on her feet now, although constantly in motion. Fiona was still with them and kept a firm eye on her. She liked working for the Robertses, they were kind, considerate employers, even though she admitted that Jaime was a handful, and some of Zoe’s theories about child rearing made no sense to her at all. But she followed most of them, and enjoyed her job.
When the guests arrived at Jaime’s birthday party, there was champagne for the adults, and ginger ale or Coke for Austin’s nephews. The boys had agreed to come to humor their parents, on the condition that they didn’t have to stay long. Austin put them in front of the TV to watch sports. He had been passionate about all sports as a boy too, growing up. He had played football, baseball, and ice hockey, and played tennis and squash now as an adult, and still loved watching football and basketball on TV, and shared his love of sports with his brothers and nephews. Zoe didn’t share his love of sports with him. The apartment was too small for five exuberant boys, so watching TV would keep them busy.
The Dark Side Page 8
