agree,” Scarlet said, surprising him. “But it’s a moot point since I’ve got her spending her afternoons up in the NICU wing now.”
“Where?” Why?
“We have a family lounge. It’s geared towards the siblings of our babies who are often overlooked while their parents focus their attention on their sick infant. So we made them a special place with video games, toys, computers to do their homework, a television and a kid-friendly library that holds everything from picture books to young adult novels. Jessie comes up to read every afternoon.”
Jessie liked to read? They actually had something in common? Yet in the nine months she’d been living with him he’d never seen her with a book.
“I’m sorry. I assumed she told you.”
“Aside from mostly no’s and the occasional yes, she hardly speaks to me. I do get a lot of shrugs, exasperated breaths and eye rolls, though. And when she does surprise me with a full sentence, it’s usually to tell me how much she hates me, that she knows I don’t want her, or that she wishes I’d died instead of her mother.” Then he’d rather she’d just stayed quiet.
“She has a lot of anger.”
Rightly so. But, “It’s been nine months. Shouldn’t it be dissipating a bit by now?”
“If only time was all she needed.”
“Tell me what she needs. I’ll do anything.”
Silence.
“Please,” Lewis said. “If you want me to beg, I will.” He slid to the edge of the recliner, fully prepared to drop to his knees. “I am that desperate.”
Silence.
Lewis started to lose hope that Scarlet would be the panacea he needed.
Then she spoke. “If you can slip up to the NICU family lounge around four o’clock tomorrow you’ll see a different side of Jessie. One that I’m sure will make you proud.”
An opportunity he would not miss. “I’ll be there.”
“She can’t know I told you. Say you came up to check on baby Joey, and my staff told you where to find me.”
“Will do.”
“I’m giving you an opportunity for a positive interaction with your daughter, Lewis. Don’t screw it up.”
CHAPTER THREE
AT THREE-THIRTY on Wednesday afternoon, washed up and gowned, Scarlet opened Joey’s incubator. The baby refused to suck so Dr. Donaldson had placed a naso- gastric tube for feeding. “Hey there, you sweet little girl,” she said softly so as not to startle her. Joey blinked her eyes and stretched in response to Scarlet’s voice.
Good.
Scarlet pressed her index finger against the baby’s tiny palm so she could grab onto it. “I promised your mommy I’d take good care of you.” A promise she intended to keep. She repositioned her many tubes and carefully wrapped her in a baby blanket. “We need to get you drinking from a bottle so you can grow up big and strong.” She lifted her and slowly moved to the rocker two steps away, careful not to pull on the many lines connected to her.
Once situated, she began to rock. Joey made a contented little moan and cuddled into her. “Don’t get too comfortable,” she warned and picked up the little bottle beside her. “We’ve got some work to do.”
Since taking on a management role, Scarlet missed providing direct care to the NICU’s tiny patients. “Open up.” She rubbed the special nipple along Joey’s bottom lip and squeezed out a drop of formula.
So far the NICU social worker hadn’t been able to come up with any information on Holly. Police were reviewing missing persons reports and Holly’s post mortem picture had been faxed to OB/GYN offices, prenatal clinics and schools within a thirty mile radius of the hospital. Scarlet couldn’t help wondering why Holly didn’t want her family to know about the baby. For fear of their reaction to her pregnancy? Shame? Scarlet could relate. But what if there was more? What if her home environment wasn’t safe for her baby? If her parents were unfit to raise a child, like Scarlet’s had been? Or if someone abusive would have access to the baby?
And what if Holly was never identified and her family never found? What then? Joey would wind up in an over-burdened, flawed child welfare system. Helpless and vulnerable.
Promise me she’ll be okay. Promise me you’ll find her a good home. A dead mother’s final plea to Scarlet, who had absolutely no control over Joey’s placement.
Unless she sought to adopt her.
An absurd notion, considering Scarlet didn’t spend enough time at home to keep a pet alive. How could she work the hours she did and effectively care for an infant? The question that’d been weighing on her mind for months as her biological clock beat out the second by second withering of her reproductive organs.
Baby Joey fell asleep in her arms and Scarlet savored a few minutes of peace in the darkened quiet room, loving the feel of Joey in her arms. Like she did every time she held a NICU patient, she tried to convince herself. But no, it was different with Joey, maybe because Joey’s mom had entrusted her daughter to Scarlet. Maybe because Holly reminded her so much of herself, and Joey, now all alone in the world, had wound up like Scarlet’s baby when she’d been purposely chemically incapacitated.
Regardless, Scarlet had a vested interest in Joey and would do whatever she could to assure the child a bright, happy and safe future.
Grandma Sadie, one of their volunteer cuddlers, came in to Joey’s room and whispered, “Linda told me to come relieve you.”
Grandma Sadie had been in Scarlet’s first volunteer cuddler orientation class, back when she’d implemented the program four years ago. Research showed preemies benefited from human touch and interaction. And cuddlers filled the gap when exhausted parents needed a break, or when babies, like Joey, had no family to love them.
She glanced at her watch. “Perfect timing.” Since she had to get over to the family lounge before Lewis arrived.
Scarlet busied herself by re-shelving books and putting away toys. Then she spoke with a few moms sitting at a table in the back of the room, enjoying a rest and some coffee while Jessie held ‘story time’ to occupy their five little girls who ranged in age from two to five. They sat in a circle on the floor, each taking a turn in Jessie’s lap while she read their selection.
When Lewis entered the room, Scarlet motioned for him to be quiet and come to stand beside her.
So engrossed in her task, Jessie didn’t notice his arrival as she made an exaggerated honking noise that sent the little girls into a pile of gigglers.
Lewis watched his daughter, his face a mix of awe and disbelief.
“Jessie holds ‘story time’ around four o’clock every afternoon,” she whispered. “The moms meet up for a few precious minutes of adult conversation, while your daughter gives each of their children some special attention.” Scarlet looked up at him. “She’s really something special.”
Jessie
