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nineteen
Matt lay in his bed and stared at the ceiling. It was
five-seventeen in the morning, Thursday morning.
It had been more than
twenty-four hours since Caitlyn had left his bed to call Brian, and he
hadn't
heard a word from her since. He'd never anticipated she'd stay
away so long.
He felt better being outside, doing something instead of waiting, so
he'd spent most of Wednesday cruising his old neighborhood with Emily
in tow, hoping to see someone, maybe Sarah, he didn't know.
But waiting was what he'd done all evening, hoping to hear Caitlyn's
knock at his door. He'd listened
for her footstep in the hallway, but
either she'd stepped lightly or she'd never come home, because he
hadn't heard a thing. Maybe she'd gone to Brian. Maybe Matt had blown
the best thing that had ever happened to him.
Emily began to cry, and he glanced over at the portable crib, which
he"d moved into his bedroom.
She'd been crying off and on all night. He'd already given her two
bottles and
changed her diaper, even taken a quick foray up to the roof, but
nothing had helped. It was a different cry tonight, not so much a mad
cry as one of discomfort. Hell, maybe she missed Caitlyn, too.
Matt got up and padded over to the crib, picking Emily up as she began
to cry in earnest. That's when it struck him how red she was. Her head
was hot and sweaty—too hot, he thought. It wasn't that warm a night,
and she was only wearing a small t-shirt with her diaper. He wondered
if she had a fever.
Carrying Emily into the living room, he dug through the pile of stuff
Caitlyn had convinced him to buy. Sure enough, there was a baby
thermometer. He read the directions, relieved when one of the options
was to place the thermometer under the baby's arm. Emily didn't like it
much, but he managed to get a reading, one hundred and four. His heart
began to race. Emily wasn't just fussy; she was sick. Damn! How long
had she been sick?
He was out the door and across the hall before he had time to consider
whether or not Caitlyn was
home. Emily continued to sob, and when
Caitlyn didn't answer his knock, Matt felt a rush of anxiety. What
should he do? Who should he call?
He was just about to panic when Caitlyn opened the door wearing a short
bathrobe and a scowl.
"What do you want?"
"She's sick," he said.
Caitlyn's expression immediately changed to one of concern as she took
Emily in her arms. "Oh, my
God, she's so hot."
"A hundred and four. What should we do?"
"I—I don't know."
"You have to know."
"Okay. All right. She doesn't have a pediatrician that we know of. And
it's—what time is it?"
"Just after five."
"I guess we should take her to the Emergency Room."
"You'll come with me?"
"Of course I will. Just let me throw on some clothes, and you better,
too."
It was only then he realized he was wearing nothing but a pair of
boxers. He returned quickly to his apartment, putting Emily down for
just a second while he threw on some clothes. He grabbed a bottle
on
his way out the door just in case she was hungry. But she didn't seem
interested in sucking on the bottle, which only worried him more.
Caitlyn met him in the hallway wearing a pair of jeans and a
sweatshirt. "You drive, and I'll watch over Emily."
The trip across town to the nearest hospital was tense. Emily continued
to cry intermittently. Neither the car ride nor the fresh air calmed
her down. Finally, they reached the Emergency Room. Matt parked the
car, then put a hand on Caitlyn's shoulder as she started to get out.
"She has to be our baby," he said.
"What?" she asked in confusion.
"Emily is our daughter. We're Mr. and Mrs. Winters, and this is our
daughter, Emily," he said slowly
and deliberately. "If we don't have
the authority to get her treated, we're going to ran into all kinds of
red tape."
"What about insurance?"
"I'll give my insurance information. By the time they figure out she's
not covered, it will be later in the day, and then I'll give them a
check."
Caitlyn nodded. "I understand. Let's just get her inside."
Their rush to get Emily help was slowed down by a busy Emergency Room.
They spent nearly
forty-five minutes in the waiting room, then another
thirty in an examining room. The waiting was
driving Matt crazy. He
wanted to track down a doctor and drag him into the room, so they could
stop Emily's suffering, because she did seem to be suffering, her
little eyes looking at him for help. And he didn't know what to do.
"She'll be all right." Caitlyn patiently stroked Emily's back. "I'm
sure it's nothing."
He wanted to believe her. If anything happened to Emily while he was
taking care of her, he'd never forgive himself. He checked his watch.
"It's after seven. What good is calling this an Emergency
Room if they
don't treat you like an emergency?"
"The nurse said Emily's temperature was a hundred and two, which isn't
that bad for a baby."
Matt was unconvinced. "She probably says that so you don't complain."
"Matt, sit down." Caitlyn leaned back against the wall with a sigh.
"Are you all right? Do you want me to take Emily?"
"She's dozing now. Let's not disturb her."
"I couldn't have done this without you."
"Sure you could have."
"Well, I'm glad I didn't have to." He sat down next to her on the
bench. "You're one hell of a woman, Caitlyn. In case I haven't
mentioned it."
"What a difference a day makes." she said dryly.
"I'm sorry about the other night. I don't know what came over me."
"Don't you?"
"All right. You jumped out of my bed and went to Brian," he said
grumpily. "That's what came
over me."
"I didn't jump out of your bed. Emily was crying and then that singing
telegram arrived, and I knew
I couldn't just let things drift along."
"So, did you talk to Brian?"
"Yes."
"And?"
She hesitated. "Let's not get into that right now."
For a moment he thought about forcing the issue, but he changed his
mind. What could he offer Caitlyn
in the way of a relationship? He
didn't know what would happen with Emily, if Sarah was coming back, or
if he'd have a child to raise. If Sarah didn't come back, he would
raise Emily as his own. Because he loved her, he realized, staring down
at her small head. He loved Emily. And as he raised his gaze to
Caitlyn's eyes, he had a feeling he loved her, too.
"You all right?" she asked.
"Not really."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not right now."
"Okay." She scooted over on the bench and rested her head on his
shoulder. "Then we'll just be
together, you and me and Emily."
"Yeah, you and me and Emily," he muttered. What a great family they
could be. There were still too many variables—Sarah, for one; Brian for
another. But for now he was just going to hold Caitlyn and think about
everything else tomorrow.
*  *  *
Jonathan pulled into the hospital parking lot just after seven-thirty.
"Ready?" he asked Sarah. He
smiled at her stiff posture. She was
sitting in the passenger seat with her fingers pressed tightly
together, her hair combed neatly into a ponytail. At least the bruises
were fading and the
horrified
look in her eyes had disappeared.
They'd been busy the past two days, talking to as many possible
churchgoers as they could find. In between, they'd spent some time at a
transitional home where Sarah had met another young mother
who was
trying to get back on her feet. She'd begun to realize she wasn't the
only woman who'd been completely overwhelmed by the responsibilities of
motherhood.
"I'm still not sure about seeing a psychiatrist," she said finally.
"What if the doctor thinks I'm crazy, too?"
"Then you'll deal with it."
"I won't be able to get Emily back if someone puts me away."
"You don't have Emily now," he gently reminded her. He knew that Sarah
was missing her baby, that
she was torn between doing what was best for
Emily and what was best for Sarah. That she had put Emily's welfare
before her own, told him how much she loved her child. Protecting a
child was a
mother's most important job, and in his book Sarah had done
what she needed to do. Now he needed
to help her get on track, so she
could get Emily back in her life. It still disturbed him that she
hadn't
made contact with her brother, but one step at a time, he
reminded himself.
Sarah sighed but still made no move to open her car door. "Do you
really think I could be a good mother?"
For the first time he saw a hopeful look in her eyes, and it pleased
him. "I do."
Her mouth slowly blossomed into a smile, and it stirred his heart in a
way he'd never imagined.
Maybe if she smiled more, he'd be used to it.
Maybe then it wouldn't make his heart skip or his
stomach turn over. He kept telling himself this was business, his
business of helping people,
but it
was getting more personal with each passing day.
"I've never known anyone who believed in me," she told him. "I don't
know why you do."
"You're young and smart and you have a good heart. This is the
beginning of your life, Sarah, not the middle or even the end. There is
so much ahead of you."
"You make it sound like it will all be good."
"Maybe not all, but hopefully, with some support, some friends, the bad
times will be easier to handle. You're not alone anymore."
She drew in a breath for courage, "All right. I'm ready."
"Let's go." Jonathan stepped out of the car and walked with her through
the front doors of the hospital. He felt confident that his friend
would be able to give Sarah peace of mind. And then maybe he could
do
the rest, get her a place to live and reunite her with her baby. He
wondered if Emily had her mother's beautiful eyes, her mother's
incredible smile.
*  *  *
Emily threw up all over the doctor's sleeve. Matt looked away as the
doctor bit back a curse and moved over to the sink to wash away the
damage. As he dried off, he picked up his chart and jotted down some
notes. "It's an ear infection," he said.
"Is that serious?" Matt glanced at Caitlyn, who was holding Emily in
her arms now that the examination was over.
"It's very common in babies," the doctor replied. "Is she allergic to
any antibiotics?"
"Uh ..." How did he know what she was allergic to? What if he said the
wrong thing?
"She hasn't been on any antibiotics," Caitlyn said quickly. "Is there
something very mild you could start with?"
"Sure. Amoxicillin should take care of this. Give her the medication
for its entire course. And then take her to your pediatrician in about
two weeks and make sure everything is back to normal. Any problems
before then, see the pediatrician."
Matt nodded as he took the prescription slip from the doctor. "That's
it?"
"That's it," the older man said with a knowing smile. "First child?"
"Yeah."
"You'll get used to it. I've got three of my own at home. They always
get sick in the middle of the night. You can give her some baby Tylenol
for the pain. But in a few days the antibiotics should take most of the
discomfort away. Any questions?"
Matt shook his head.
"Great. Have a nice day."
"Have a nice day," Matt echoed wearily. "It must be daytime, huh?"
"Almost eight," Caitlyn said, glancing at the clock on the wall which
had been ticking ever so slowly the past two hours. "Are you ready to
get out of here?"
"More than ready."
They walked through the hallway toward the Emergency Room entrance.
That's when Matt saw something that caught him completely off guard. It
was just a flash at the end of the hall, but a very familiar flash.
"Hold on a second," he said abruptly.
"What's wrong?"
"I thought I saw someone." He dashed down the hall which led into the
main part of the hospital.
It was her; the old woman with the straw hat and the watering can. He
was too far
away to see her
face, but he had a terrible feeling he knew who she was.
*  *  *
Fifteen minutes with Jonathan's psychiatrist friend had already made
Sarah feel better. The woman, Karen Harte, was easy to talk to, very
understanding, and had baby pictures all over her desk. Every
time
Sarah looked at one, she thought of Emily, wondering how she'd changed
in the past week, if
she'd stopped crying, if she'd begun to smile.
"You miss your baby," Dr. Harte said sympathetically.
"So much." Sarah felt the emotion clutch at her heart. Sometimes she
thought she'd die if she didn't
touch or hold Emily again. She'd
thought she could break the connection between them simply by
walking
away, but the bond was as strong as ever.
"The mother-child relationship is very powerful," Dr. Harte continued.
"That's what worries me the most, that my mother may have passed down
her craziness, I mean
mental illness, to me."
"That's not an uncommon fear, Sarah. But not all mental illness is
hereditary. And like other predispositions, such as alcoholism or
obesity, an individual can make conscious choices to avoid those
pitfalls. Understanding yourself, your strengths and weaknesses, can
play a big part in a healthy mental life."
"But I left my baby just like my mother left me," Sarah argued, still
not sure she could believe in
herself the way the doctor was telling
her to.
"Having a baby can be overwhelming, especially when you don't have any
support. The physical
changes in your body, the lack of sleep, they can
play havoc with your mental health. What I'd like to suggest is that we
see each other
again, spend some time talking about your past and hopefully your
future. Unfortunately, today's schedule is packed, but if you'd like to
make an appointment for the next day or two, we could begin to explore
some of your concerns on a deeper level. What do you think?"
"I don't have any money," Sarah said bluntly. "Jonathan said he'd cover
today, but I can't ask him to do that again."
"I understand, Sarah. You're in a difficult situation. But I would like
to speak with you again. So why don't we set up an appointment for one
more session, and then perhaps I can steer you in the right direction
for additional help."
"You would really do that?"
"I would," Dr. Harte replied with a smile. "I didn't become a
psychiatrist just for the money." She
paused. "My grandmother was sick,
Sarah. I know what it's like to have mental illness in the family and
how it affects those who live with it. You were a little girl at the
mercy of your mother's erratic behavior. And you took steps to protect
your child from a similar situation. I think the fact that you took
those steps says quite a bit about your mental health."
"I hope you're right."
"Where is your mother now, Sarah?"
"I don't know."
"That's a shame. It might be good for you to talk to her again.
Sometimes the monsters we create in our mind are far more powerful than
the ones that actually exist. Please make an appointment on your way
out, Sarah. I'd like to see you again."
"All right. Thank you." Sarah got to her feet and walked through the
door. As she debated which way to go, she caught a
glimpse of a woman, the same woman she'd seen by the church. What on
earth? She walked quickly down the hall. She had to catch up with her.
She had to pull that straw hat off her head and look into her eyes.
Jonathan lifted his head as a man came into the reception area and
glanced impatiently around the room, then at Jonathan.
"Excuse me," he said. "Did you see a woman with a straw hat come
through here a second ago?"
"No, I've been reading. I haven't seen anyone."
The man let out a sigh. "Thanks anyway."
"No problem."
Jonathan looked down at his magazine and flipped idly through another
half dozen pages of business news. He had just closed the cover when
Sarah came into the lobby. She wasn't smiling, and he felt a sudden
worry. Had he done the wrong thing by bringing her here, encouraging
her to speak to a doctor? Most people would have told him to point
Sarah in the direction of Social Services and let them help her weed
through her problems. And those people might have been right.
"Are you okay?" he asked, getting to his feet.
She nodded, somewhat distractedly. "Did you see a woman come through
here? She was carrying a watering can and—"
"Wearing a straw hat?"
"Yes." Her eyes lit up. "You saw her?"
"No."
"But how did you—"
"A man just came through here asking me the same question."
"Really?" Sarah looked around the room in much the same way as the man
had done. Jonathan felt an uneasy chill race down
his arms. It was the kind of feeling he often got when things couldn't
be explained. "I wonder where she went," Sarah murmured.
"I don't know.
I never saw her."
"But you have seen her—by your church?"
"I don't
recall anyone of that description."
"She's been there twice this past
week, watering the weeds along the sidewalk and the curb. She wears
a
bunch of clothes, like someone who lives on the street," Sarah added.
"It doesn't ring a bell."
"Really?"
"Nope. How did your meeting with Dr. Harte go?"
"Good." She smiled
warmly at him. "She's very nice. She wants to see me again, and she
said she
won't charge me."
"Even if she did charge you, we'd find a way, Sarah." "I'm beginning to
believe you could find a way
for anything."
He felt a rush of unexpected emotion. The confidence in her voice gave
him renewed faith in himself.
He had a feeling Sarah was doing as much
for him as he was doing for her.
"Can we make a stop on the way home?" she asked him as they turned
toward the door. "Sure. Where
do you want to go?"
"I want to go to
Matt's house." She looked him straight in the eye. "I want to see my
brother and my baby."

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