Kitabı oxu: «Grievous Sin»

For Jonathan

For the Three Musketeers—Jess, Rachel, and Ilana

And for my D’Artagnan—Aliza Celeste

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Also by Faye Kellerman

Predator

Copyright

About the Publisher

1

Her first sound was more bleat than wail, but she had ten fingers and ten toes, and that was all Decker cared about. Wrinkled and red, her skin covered with something akin to cold cream, she seemed perturbed by the world rather than scared by it. Decker watched as Georgina, the labor nurse, scooped his daughter from the obstetrician’s arms into her own. After rubbing the infant with a towel and giving her a quick exam, the nurse swaddled her in a blanket. The baby was finally presented to Papa for inspection.

She had a mottled face, her nose scrunching as she beeped rather than cried. Her eyes were closed, lids as thin as onion-skin. Downy fuzz covered her scalp. Decker took a gloved index finger and placed it on a tiny palm. Slowly, soft pink digits encircled his finger. It brought tears to his eyes.

“Is she okay?” Rina’s voice was anxious.

“She’s perfect, darlin’,” Decker answered. “Just … perfect.”

“Of course she’s perfect!” Georgina folded thick arms across her bosom. “We only deliver perfect babies here.”

Decker shifted his attention from his daughter to his wife. Rina’s eyes were red-rimmed, her lips moving in silent prayer. Damp black tresses lay across her forehead. Never had she looked so beautiful.

“She’s perfect, Rina.” Decker’s throat was clogged. “Just like you.”

Rina gave him a weak smile, and Decker suddenly became aware of her exhaustion. But he knew such fatigue was normal after childbirth.

“You did great, Madame Decker!” Georgina’s stubby finger stroked Rina’s arm. “Just hang in a little bit more, and then you take that much deserved nap.”

“Close your eyes, Rina,” Decker said.

She nodded as her lids fell shut. Then she jerked them open and started breathing rapidly.

“Everything okay, Dr. Hendricks?” Decker asked.

“So far,” the obstetrician answered. “She’s expelling the afterbirth now. The contractions won’t go away until she does.”

Then Rina stopped panting as suddenly as she’d started. Decker watched Hendricks as he tended to Rina. Most of the doctor’s face was hidden behind the surgical mask, but his eyes were visible and clouded with concentration. He placed his palms on her abdomen and pushed down. “Rina, do you feel strong enough to nurse the baby?”

Rina whispered yes. So frail.

“That’s great, doll,” Hendricks said. “Let Nature help us along.”

“Help with what?” Decker asked.

The doctor didn’t answer. Georgina took the baby from Decker’s arms and placed her on Rina’s chest. Cradling the infant, Rina watched a little wet mouth bob along her breast until it found the nipple. With a little encouragement, the baby pursed her lips and began to suckle.

Rina closed her eyes again, beads of sweat dotting her brow. At the bedside, Decker dabbed her face with a washcloth. He glanced around the labor room, taking in the surroundings for the first time. The place was papered in a chintz print—some sort of small vining flower. A handloomed rug had been thrown over an institutional tiled floor. The hospital bed was framed in wood, stained to match the wicker of a Sydney Greenstreet chair planted across the room. The homey decor was supposed to give the illusion that the woman was giving birth in her bedroom. But Decker couldn’t block out all the medical machinery standing idle against the wall, the I.V. stand tucked into the left-hand corner.

Definitely a hospital.

He had been there for nineteen hours that had somehow been compressed into minutes. Now time was moving in slomo. The hands of the wall clock showed him only ten minutes had passed since his daughter had been born. The baby was still sucking on Rina’s breast, but her eyes were closed—nursing in her sleep. Pink heart-shaped lips working Mama’s nipple as thread-sized veins pulsed in her temple. Decker knew he was biased, but she was a beautiful baby.

His eyes drifted to Rina’s face. Her lips were pale and parched.

“Can Rina have something to drink?” he asked.

“Not quite yet,” Hendricks said, talking under his mask. Once more he pressed on Rina’s stomach.

“Can she at least suck on some ice?”

This time the doctor didn’t answer. Decker felt a headache coming on. Maybe he was just hungry—ten hours since he’d last eaten. Again Rina went into her Lamaze breathing. Decker held her hand, offered words of encouragement. Before the arrival of the doctor, he’d felt particularly needed. Now he was an appendage—useful but not indispensable. Rina stopped her labored breathing and wearily closed her eyes. Her voice was a whisper.

“I’m very tired.”

“I bet you are,” Hendricks said. “How about we give you a rest? Georgina, put the baby in the incubator and wheel her into Infant Recovery.” He looked at Decker, and smile lines appeared at the corners of his eyes. “You’ve got a beautiful, healthy daughter, folks. She shouldn’t be in Recovery more than an hour or so. Then they’ll move her to the nursery and you’ll be able to show her off to the family.”

“That’d be nice,” said Decker, smiling.

“Grandparents all excited?” Hendricks asked.

“Yeah, they haven’t held a newborn in a while.”

Neither had he, he thought. Nineteen years. My God, it seemed like yesterday since Cindy was born. And then, sometimes, it seemed like a thousand years. Georgina loaded the baby in the incubator. “Be back in a minute.”

Decker nodded, and the room turned quiet. Rina’s eyes were closed, her mouth slightly agape. Decker wanted to tell her how much he loved her, but he didn’t want to disturb her rest. A few minutes later, Georgina returned. She placed a hand on Decker’s shoulder.

“How’re you holding up, Pop?”

“Not too bad for an old guy,” Decker said. “Mom’s resting.”

“Yeah, she needs some peace and quiet.”

Hendricks said, “Georgina, set up a twenty-milligram Pitocin drip, please.”

Anxiously, Decker looked up at the labor nurse. She flashed him a smile of crooked teeth, but the expression wasn’t cheery. Then she liberated the metal stand from the corner and opened a cabinet door. Out came a plastic bottle that hung on a rack. Georgina hooked the I.V. line up to Rina’s left arm, then adjusted some valves. A moment later, Decker saw clear liquid run through plastic tubing. Again the doctor pushed on Rina’s abdomen. A soft moan escaped from her lips as she attempted to control her breathing. But fatigue was taking its toll. She cried out. Decker looked at Hendricks.

“I’m pushing with some pressure,” the OB said calmly. “It doesn’t feel comfortable, but it should help Mom along. Georgina, increase the rate of the drip.”

“Right away, Doctor.”

Decker didn’t like the military cadence in the labor nurse’s voice. It had gone from jocular to professional. He felt his heart race.

“Is everything okay, Doctor?”

“She’s having a bit of trouble expelling the placenta.” Hendricks paused. “I can feel it, but … the Pitocin should help. Does it hurt, honey?”

Again Rina nodded.

“Honey, I need to keep pressing on your uterus. Just keep on with your Lamaze breathing.” He turned to Decker. “Just help her like you did in labor.”

The doctor compressed her stomach wall. Rina’s face contorted with pain.

“Try to breathe, Rina,” Hendricks said.

“I can’t—”

“Breathe, Rina,” Decker said. “Squeeze my hand if it hurts.”

Rina took his hand. Her fingers held no strength, and her complexion had become wan. Hendricks clucked his tongue and shook his head. Decker felt his stomach drop.

“Georgina, get a gurney and see who’s available for OB Anesthesiology,” Hendricks said. “Also, get me point two-five milligrams of Methergine and a BP cuff.”

“What’s going on, Doc?” Decker said.

Hendricks ignored him.

“What’s going on?” Decker repeated.

“In a moment, Peter.”

Decker was silent, his gut a tight, wet knot. His body ached with tension. He forced himself to rotate his head, releasing a symphony of creaks and pops from his neck. Georgina returned, carrying a metal tray with a needle on it. Hendricks took the syringe and injected the medicine into Rina’s shoulder. She didn’t even wince.

“I love you, Rina,” Decker whispered.

A nod was her answer.

A petite woman in scrubs entered the room, a gurney in tow. Hendricks pushed the gurney until it abutted Rina’s bedside.

“I’m going to move you to a delivery room, Rina,” Hendricks said. “At the count of three, I want you to slide your backside onto the gurney. Think you can do that?”

Rina moaned a yes.

On three, Rina raised her body as Hendricks and Georgina lifted her onto cold, brushed metal. Up went the side rails, Georgina locking them into place. The flaps of Rina’s hospital gown had unfolded, exposing her breasts. Decker drew them back together and wiped Rina’s forehead with the washcloth.

“Peter, I want to keep a close eye on Rina until she delivers the afterbirth,” Hendricks said. “It may take a while. At this point, it’s no emergency. But she is bleeding a tad more than I’d like to see. I’m sorry, but you won’t be able to be with her now. Don’t worry. And get some rest.”

“Why can’t I come with her?” Decker said. “I’m already suited up—”

“No, I’m going to have to insist you remain here.” Hendricks’s voice was firm and taut. “Georgina, could you please escort Sergeant Decker back to the waiting room.”

Before Decker could get words up from his throat, Rina was whisked away. He felt a sudden chill and shuddered. Pressure on his elbow—Georgina’s hand.

“This way, Sergeant.”

“Why … why is he—”

“Just like he said, Sergeant. He feels safer if she’s in a delivery room—”

“You mean an operating room.”

“Whatever.”

“Why is he taking her there? Can’t he deliver a placenta here?”

“It’s a precaution.”

“Precaution for what?” Decker shouted.

“Sergeant, would you like to come this way, please?”

“No, I would not like to come this way, please! I’d like to know what the hell is happening with my wife!”

Georgina said, “Sergeant, you know as much as I do.”

“Aw c’mon, lady, you work here. Surely, you have some inside dope!”

Georgina was quiet. Decker began to pace.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, Sergeant. I understand.”

Decker trod the floor. “He said something about her bleeding. Does he mean bleeding? Or does he mean hemorrhaging?”

“Sergeant, I don’t know.”

The room became still. Decker covered his mouth and blew out air. His eyes began to burn, and he rubbed them vigorously. Georgina managed a tepid smile and placed a fleshy hand on his shoulder.

“Come.”

Decker remained rooted. “When will I know what’s going on?”

“Sergeant, I’m sure the doctor will speak to you just as soon as he can. These changes in plans happen all the time. It’s usually nothing.”

Decker bit his thumbnail. “You know, in my profession, I give that kind of bull … that kind of line all the time. I see a distraught parent whose kid is missing. I say, ‘Hey, it happens all the time. Usually, it’s nothing.’ But sometimes, it’s something.”

Georgina didn’t answer.

“Right?” Decker raised his voice. “Sometimes it is something, isn’t it?”

Georgina lowered her eyes, then looked up. “Yes, sometimes it is something, Sergeant.”

“Well, if it would be something, what …” Decker cleared his voice. “What could it be?”

“Sergeant, I’m just not qualified to diagnose your wife’s condition.”

Decker was silent.

Georgina sighed. “Sergeant, do you have any family with you?”

Family. Rina’s parents. The boys. Decker felt his knees go weak. He sank into the Sydney Greenstreet chair and ran his hands down his face. Wordlessly, Georgina handed him a glass of water. He downed the glass too quickly and felt his stomach rock with nausea. His skin felt prickly and gelid. It took him a minute to find his voice.

“They’re waiting in the lobby … my daughter, Rina’s parents …” Decker swallowed hard. “Rina’s sons, too. What should I tell them?”

“I’ll walk you out and talk to them.”

Decker shook his head. “No, it’ll scare them—the boys. Their father died about four years ago.”

“Oh dear, I’m very sorry.”

“You can understand why I don’t want to alarm them.”

“Absolutely. I didn’t realize …”

Decker stared at his empty glass. “How about a little guidance here?”

Georgina thought a moment. “Be low-key and tell them the truth. That the doctor is still with Rina but just as a precaution. She’s having a little trouble expelling the afterbirth.” She patted his hand. “I know this is going to sound a little cavalier, but you’re getting worked up over nothing, Sergeant.”

“What happens if she can’t deliver it?” Decker asked.

Georgina frowned. “You’re very persistent.”

Decker shrugged helplessly.

Georgina sighed. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, because I don’t know your wife’s individual situation—”

“But?”

“But sometimes the placenta has an obnoxious habit of sticking to the uterine wall. Sometimes to get it all out, the doctor has to go in and do a D and C. It’s done under anesthesia, and that’s probably why Dr. Hendricks wanted an anesthesiologist.”

“Oh.” Decker felt his shoulders relax a fraction. “A D and C’s kind of a routine procedure, isn’t it?”

Georgina paused. “I shouldn’t be telling you anything. Pretend we didn’t have this discussion, okay?”

“All right.” Decker blew out air. “Thanks. Really, it helps.” He ran his hand through thick ginger hair. “Is there any way you can peek in and—”

“No, Sergeant.”

Slowly, Decker rose to his feet. “I’m okay.”

“You’re sure?”

Decker nodded. Georgina gave him a bear hug.

“Now you go in there and smile. Your wife’s in very good hands. You go tell the family the good news about your new little daughter.”

His new little daughter. Decker had forgotten about her.

2

Six pairs of beaming eyes greeted him. Even across the third-floor lobby, Decker could see their excitement and expectation. It was all he could do to keep from gagging, but that was probably him. Worried over nothing. But now he had to think of the boys. Not to mention Rina’s parents, who had already gone through hell fifty years ago. No need to set everyone in a panic over a little medical problem.

He took a deep breath, ran his hand along the surgical blue pants, and put on the smile. To make it genuine, he thought about his new little daughter. He did a slow lope across the waiting room, dodging couches and chairs upholstered in houndstooth wool and coffee tables sprouting Styrofoam cups. The room held a few lone souls reading paperbacks and checking their watches as well as one other small grouping similar to his own clan—a family expecting to hear news soon. He approached his entourage.

“Well?” his mother-in-law asked.

Her “Well” came out “Vell.” The Eliases were Hungarian. Stefan was strong and squat in contrast to Madga, who was lean. Her dress and accent reminded Decker of a dark-haired Zsa Zsa Gabor.

“A healthy little girl,” he announced.

“Ah, Akiva, mazel tov!” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Boys, you have a new little sister!”

And for a moment, Decker did feel good, caught up in the hugging and well-wishing. Sammy pumped his hand and said that a sister wasn’t the bar mitzvah present he had in mind. Jake whooped like a crane. Cindy simply slapped his back and told him “Way to go!”

It was Marge who held back. When he caught her eye, she smiled and winked at him, but Decker could feel her studying his expression. She knew: the way it is with partners. Quickly, he held a finger in the air—a sign to her not to push it. She understood.

“And how is my little Ginny?” Stefan asked. “When do we see her?”

His little Ginny, Decker thought. The Eliases called Rina by her English name, Regina. Ginny for short.

His little Ginny. His little daughter!

Remain calm, Deck.

“Akiva?” Magda asked. “Everything is okay, yes?”

Decker bit his lip. Damn it, he couldn’t keep the anxiety in check. Cut to the chase.

“Well, Magda, she has a teeny problem. She’s still with the doctor.”

Magda brought her hand to her chest and fired out a series of foreign sentences that sounded like questions.

“Magda, I don’t understand Hungarian,” Decker said.

Stefan said, “What do you mean, a problem?”

“She’s having a little trouble expelling the afterbirth. I’m sure it’s noth—”

“But she’s okay, no?” Magda interrupted. “Where is she?”

“With the doc—”

“How long will she be with him?” Magda said.

“I don’t know, Magda,” Decker said. “The doctor didn’t tell me. So why don’t we sit down and relax while we wait.”

“There’s no one we can talk to, Akiva?” Magda said.

Decker glanced at his stepsons, then shot a meaningful look at his mother-in-law. Though upset, Magda took a deep breath and smiled at the boys. Then she placed her hand over her mouth—as if her fist would muzzle her apprehension.

Decker winked at his stepsons and received scared expressions. He knew he should say something reassuring, but he was afraid that the words might sound hollow. Instead, he took a position on the arm of the couch, drawing Sammy under the wing of his right arm.

Magda paused, then perched herself on the edge of the sofa. She brushed imaginary specks off black wool pants and camel jacket. Rina had inherited her mother’s coloring—the dark hair and light eyes—but Magda was thinner, bonier, than her daughter. Stefan cuddled Jake next to his muscular chest. He was dressed in a gray shirt that matched his hair, and black pants. On his feet were orthopedic shoes. Something new, Decker realized. Cindy stood behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Decker turned around and gave her a weak smile. At nineteen, his daughter had turned into a young woman—tall, with radiance in her expressive brown eyes. Her face had lost its adolescent roundness and now had the bone structure of a newly crowned adult along with a tan from the summer sun.

Magda blurted, “Does doctor say this is a big problem?”

Decker said, “No, he was pretty casual about it. Just wanted to watch her as a precaution.”

Hell if he’d tell his mother-in-law about her daughter bleeding a tad more than Hendricks liked. And it was probably no big deal. Decker remembered his first wife having a D and C after the birth of their second child. Jan had been just fine. Unfortunately, the baby had been stillborn—a boy. Morbid, unwanted thoughts began to invade Decker’s brainspace. He tried to shake off the nightmarish memory.

“But she’s all right, my Ginny?” Stefan said.

“I’m sure she’s fine.”

“They didn’t want you with her, Akiva?” Magda asked.

“No …” Decker hesitated. “No, they wouldn’t let me stay with her. But everything’ll work out. It always does.”

The group was silent.

“Where is she now?” Stefan asked.

“They took her into a delivery room.”

“But she delivered okay?” Magda said.

“Like a trouper.” Decker stood. “Doc just wanted to watch her.”

“That’s what you’re paying him for, Pete,” Marge said.

Decker stared at his partner—the voice of reason. But he didn’t feel rational. He stood and rocked on his feet. “It happened so fast. One minute she delivered a gorgeous little girl … the next …” He caught himself. “It’s just a precaution. Don’t worry.” Again he tried a smile for the boys. “Hey, your mom’s an iron woman.”

“The doctor looked worried?” Magda said.

“Just concerned.”

“But not worried?” Magda said.

“Maybe a little worried.”

“But not a lot worried,” Magda said.

“A little, a lot,” Stefan said. “Magda, you’re driving everyone crazy.”

“I want to know.” Magda began to chide her husband in Hungarian, then stopped herself. “I worry.” She smiled at her grandsons. “You know your omah is a worrier. I worry about everything.”

Decker took his mother-in-law’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Why is she still with the doctor?” Magda asked.

“Magda, I honestly don’t know,” Decker said. “They kicked me out.”

“Is she going to be all right, Dad?”

Decker regarded Sammy—an adolescent face with eyes that held a child’s fear. As Decker searched for the right explanation, his father-in-law picked up the slack.

“Sure, she’ll be fine, Shmuli,” Stefan said. “Your eema’s a strong girl. You want something to eat?”

Sammy shook his head.

“Nu, and you, Yonkel?”

“No, thanks, Opah.”

With resolution, Stefan slapped his hands onto the pillow cushions and hoisted himself upward. “Then we go to the gift shop.” He checked his pockets. “Buy some comic books maybe. Something nice for Eema’s room. Come on, boys. Do you have a twenty, Magda?”

“It’s okay, Opah,” Sammy said. “I’ll just stay here.”

“No, you come with me, Shmuli,” Stefan said. “I don’t know what comic book you like. Only the cat who eats lasagna.”

“Garfield,” Cindy said.

“Yes, Garfield. And who is the other? With the tiger?”

“Calvin and Hobbes,” Jake answered.

“Calvin and Hobbes,” Stefan repeated. “You come, too, Yonkel.”

Slowly, the boys got up and walked over to their grandfather’s side. He tousled the boys’ hair above the napes of their necks, careful to avoid knocking off their new leather yarmulkes. Jake leaned into his grandfather’s side, but Sammy kept his distance. Hands in his pockets, eyes cast on the floor. Decker felt the onslaught of parental failure, disgusted that he couldn’t put aside his own nervousness to comfort his son.

“Thanks, Stefan,” Decker said.

Stefan patted Decker’s back softly. “You just like my wife, you worry. You think you hide it, but I can tell. I just talked to God. He tells me she’ll be fine. So relax, nu?”

Decker marveled at how well the old man coped. Was it a skill he picked up because he survived the camps, or did he survive the camps because he had the skill? Decker sometimes wondered how he would have done if he’d been forced to live through the torture. Probably would have fallen apart, if the present was any indication.

“You go down to the gift shop with your opah, boys. I’m going to try to find out what’s going on.”

Marge said, “Let me ask—”

“No, I’ll ask—”

“Pete—”

“Marge, let me handle it my way.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“That’s not neces—”

“C’mon, Pete. Let’s go.”

“Marge, maybe you should stay with Magda.”

“No, you go ahead with her, Akiva.” Magda stood and brushed off her pants. “When Stefan says God say she’ll be okay, she’ll be okay. Cindy and I maybe go see the baby.”

Cindy’s face suddenly became animated. It was wonderful to see her spontaneous burst of joy. It reminded Decker that this was supposed to be a happy occasion. “Can we really see the baby?”

“I don’t know, Cindy.” Magda hooked her arm around Cindy. “We find out.”

“You can’t go behind the double doors,” a middle-aged woman in a white uniform told them. “I’m sorry. Staff only.”

Marge took out her badge. “Police, ma’am.”

The woman backed away. “Oh … okay. I thought …”

Decker didn’t give her a chance to fill in the blank. He took off down the long corridors and didn’t stop until it dawned on him that he didn’t know where he was.

“Is this Maternity, Pete?”

“I don’t know.” He grabbed his head. “God, I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I’m freaking myself out.”

“When was the last time you ate?”

“Margie, my stomach feels like vinegar.” He bit on the ends of his mustache. “They took her into a delivery room.”

“We can’t exactly waltz into delivery rooms making inquiries, Pete.”

“That wasn’t my intention, Marge.”

“I know. I didn’t mean to sound snide.” Marge stopped a young kid in scrubs and asked for directions to Maternity. Down the hall to the right.

Decker left without thanking the kid, forcing Marge to trot just to keep up with him. But Decker knew she was smart enough not to say anything about his behavior. The woman had picked up some salient points after working with him for six years. Decker found the set of double doors leading to the labor rooms and went inside. The flooring had gone from carpet to linoleum with geometrical designs, and felt cold under his paper-muled feet. Still gowned up, for all the nurses knew he might have been an expectant father on a coffee break instead of an interloper.

The nurses’ reception area was empty, except for a woman in blue scrubs in the back office talking to someone holding a broomstick—either a janitor or a witch. The corridor was devoid of people, which surprised him. When he’d brought Rina in, the hallway had been well populated. But that was during the daytime. It was almost nine, and most of the ancillary staff went home by five. The nighttime floor nurses must be occupied with women in labor.

Next to the nurses’ station was a lab room, its counters stocked with scopes, slides, and vials. A large industrial sink was mounted on the wall—stainless steel with a deep bowl like the ones at the morgue. The recollection made him shudder. Past the lab, down the hallway began a series of doors leading to the labor rooms. He peeked through one of the windows, feeling a little voyeuristic, and saw a woman, her bloated belly hooked up to machines, face contorted in pain. Through the closed door, he could hear panting, then an agonizing moan.

Stretches of empty pale pink corridor, the smell of antiseptics, hallways echoing feral growls—a real house of horrors. Maybe this was a nightmare. He was going to wake up any minute and find Rina safe, asleep at his side. A tap on his shoulder made him jump, reminded him this was all too real.

Georgina—her eyes on Marge.

“Excuse me, miss, but this is a restricted area.”

“I’m just accompanying Sergeant Decker. He’s wondering what’s going on with his wife.”

“I’ll be happy to help Sergeant Decker,” Georgina said. “Would you like directions out of here? It can be a maze.”

Marge nodded. Georgina directed her down the hallway and told her to follow the Exit signs. They’d lead her back to the lobby. Marge thanked her, threw Decker a sympathetic look, turned, and walked away.

Decker managed a sidelong glance at Georgina, feeling assertive and sheepish at the same time. “I was just wondering …”

Georgina took his arm. “Let’s go talk somewhere else. Hallways aren’t conducive to conversation.”

She took him inside the nurses’ station, giving him a seat at the front desk. The woman in the blue scrubs and the woman with the broomstick were still deep in conversation. There was a series of numbered monitors against the back wall, each one making audible beeps at different tempos. At least the pitch was the same. Hanging on the right wall was a blackboard with the labor rooms’ numbers, the name of the patient, doctor, and any specifics. Decker found Rina’s number. After her name was delivered, then the letters or along with the names of three doctors.

“She’s still in the operating room?” Decker asked.

“Yes, she’s being operated on,” Georgina said flatly. “I don’t know the nature or the extent of the procedure. All I know is they called in a couple of scrub nurses and an anesthesiologist. I’ll let you know more—”

“Are they doing a D and C?”

“I don’t know exactly—”

“Is she still bleeding?”

Georgina gave that all-too-telling pause. “I’m sure everything’s being done to control her situation.”

“Is she in imminent danger?”

“She’s in good hands—”

“That’s not what I asked you.” Decker stood, then felt his knees buckle. “God, I’m going to be sick.”

Georgina helped him back into the chair. She heard a high-pitched continuous beep and turned to one of the monitors. “I have to check on someone. You just sit there, okay? I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Decker nodded. Head down, he watched spots of light dance on his lap. He raised his chin, felt his head swim. Catching sight of something in blue paper garb marching down the corridor, he leapt up and caught her by the arm. The woman immediately backed away. Her head was still covered by a cap, but her face mask dangled by strings around her neck like an undersized bib. Her name tag said dr. wallace.

“Are you with my wife?” Decker whispered.

The woman looked at her arm still in Decker’s clutches. “Who’s your wife?”

“Rina Decker.”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.”

Decker released the woman’s arm. “My God, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Mr. Decker, I understand.”

Decker regarded her eyes—intense and purposeful, but not the kind of eyes that were about to deliver tragic news. Man, he’d seen that look before.

“Your wife is being operated on—”

“I know that. How is she?”

“She’s holding, but she’s lost some blood, Mr. Decker. We already gave her a pint of her own blood. She was smart enough to donate autologously before she went into labor. But she’s going to need more—another couple of pints. Before we start with the banks, we were hoping she might have a blood relative who can donate. Matched relatives are always your best bet for good takes on transfusions.”

“Her parents are here.”

“Then let’s go test them.”

Decker started to walk, but stumbled. This time it was Dr. Wallace who caught his arm. “Do you need to sit?”

“No.” Decker cursed his weakness and commanded his legs to be steady. “She has her sons out there. I don’t want to scare them.”

“Frankly, this could scare them.”

“It’s bad?”

“Don’t panic, Mr. Decker, I just don’t have anything definitive to tell you right now. Uncertainty is very scary for little kids. For you, too. But Dr. Hendricks is the best. And he’s as cool as a cucumber, in total control.”

Decker felt his throat clog. He picked up his pace, trying to keep step with Dr. Wallace. “What should I do about my boys? They’re perceptive.”

“How about if I talk to the parents, and you occupy your boys?”

“They’re going to want to know what’s going on. What do I say?” Decker ran his hands over his face. “God, I can’t believe …”

“She’s in very good hands.”

“If I hear that one more time, I’m going to throw up! How serious is her condition?”

“It’s serious.”

“Life-threatening?”

“It’s serious. Let’s leave it at that for now.”

“God, this is just a nightmare.” He heard his voice crack. “Is this unusual?”

“Not as unusual as you might think.”

They had reached the lobby. As luck would have it, the group was all there. Stefan had returned with the boys from the gift shop. Cindy and Magda were deep in conversation. Marge was leaning against the wall next to the complimentary coffeepot. She was the first to notice and pointed the others in his direction. Again he was met with expectant faces. But this time there were no smiles. Decker took Dr. Wallace over to the group.

“She need …” Again his throat swelled. “She could use some blood from a relative.”

Slowly, Rina’s parents rose. “Where do we go?” Stefan asked calmly.

“Come, I’ll take you,” Dr. Wallace said.

Sammy spoke up. “I want to come.”

Dr. Wallace said, “You have to be seventeen to donate blood.”

“I am seventeen,” Sammy persisted. “I’m small for my age. I already have a complex. Don’t make it worse.”

“I want to come, too,” Jake piped in.

“Boys, just stay here,” Decker said weakly.

Sammy yelled, “I want to help my mother, damn it!”

Decker was taken aback by the force of Sammy’s voice. Magda took him under the crook of her arm. “He can come with us, no?”

Dr. Wallace sighed. “You seem big enough. Won’t hurt to give you a pinprick.” She looked at Cindy.

Decker said, “She’s my daughter … Rina’s stepdaughter … not a blood relative.”

Dr. Wallace said, “So you’ll watch your pop for me?”

Cindy nodded.

“Come along. Let’s go help your mom.” Dr. Wallace started her speed walk. In the distance, Decker heard her ask what the boys’ names were. He couldn’t hear if they answered her. Either they were too far away or their voices were too weak.

Slowly, Decker lowered himself onto the couch. Marge sat at his right, Cindy at his left. She held his arm and kissed his bicep. Decker turned to her and tried out a smile.

“It’ll be okay, Dad,” she said. “Do you need anything?”

His initial reaction was nothing, but then he gave the matter some thought. “Princess, would you mind getting me something to eat? I think there’s a vending machine with fruit on the first floor. How about an apple and a banana?”

“Got it.” Cindy stood. “Do you want anything, Marge?”

“An apple sounds great.”

“On the double.”

Cindy did a jog to the elevator. When she was out of sight, Decker slumped back on the couch and closed his eyes.

“Do you want some coffee, Pete?” Marge asked.

“Nothing, thanks.”

“What did the doctor say?”

“It’s serious, Margie … I’m scared.”

He swabbed his wet cheeks with his fingers. She hugged his shoulder but didn’t speak. Decker was grateful for the silence.

3

It wasn’t as if she was narcissistic or anything as psychologically disturbed as that. It was just that hers was a body worth looking at. Like admiring a work of art.

Because that was what she was—a work of art.

Stripped down naked, sweat glistening from smooth, bronzed skin, she regarded herself in the mirror. Perfect round, pronounced breasts because of the developed pecs underneath. The just rewards of really hard work. She’d gained shape without gaining an ounce of fat. She patted her flat abdomen, did a couple of arm rolls, then ran through a couple of poses—all sleek, defined muscle.

Definitely, she had developed the definition—the cut!

She swiped her damp body with a thick white Turkish towel, then wrapped it around her trunk, eyes never leaving the mirror. Short wisps of downy-fine facial hair ran down her cheek parallel to her ear—peach-fuzz sideburns. It went with the territory. At least it was blond. Good thing, because her coloring was naturally dark.

She unclipped her hair, and black satin fell to her shoulders.

Exotic. That’s what everyone had said about her. She was exotic-looking.

Again she studied her reflection in the silver glass.

In only two years, she had turned from a nothing into a something. From a tall, shapeless form to a Greek sculpture. But she was so much more than just a perfect body. With the discipline had come the control—real control. Not the artificial kind that comes when the mind is altered by chemicals. Drugs that hide but don’t cure. Now she was in control. Her mind was as disciplined as an army general’s, as meticulously organized as a dictionary. She was master of her destiny. There was nothing she couldn’t conquer, nothing she couldn’t overcome.

Best of all, the voices had stopped.

The door opened and closed. In the mirror, she saw him coming at her. This time it was Eric. He was naked, his biceps like veined footballs. He duck-walked to her, his thighs so buffed they had rubbed the inner skin raw.

She didn’t bother to turn around, just dropped on all fours.

He stood behind her, then dropped to his knees and slapped her rear.

“Are you ready for it, babe?”

“Ready, willing, and able.”

“You really want it?”

“I really want it.”

“Say it again.”

“I really want it!”

“Say it with conviction!” Again Eric slapped her ass, his leathery hand stinging her hide. “I want to hear conviction!”

She smiled. She liked Eric. He was gentle.

“I said I really, really want it!”

“Get mean, Tandy! I want to hear mean!”

“I really, really want it! Give it to me now, or I’ll blow your toes off!”

Eric laughed. “Blow my toes off?”

“One! At! A! Time!” she yelled. “Give it to me, Eric!”

“I can’t hear you!”

“Give it to me now!”

“Still can’t hear you!”

“Give it to me!” she screamed, feeling the heat in her face.

“Still, still can’t hear you!”

“GIVE IT TO ME, DAMN IT! GIVE IT TO ME, NOW!”

“Atta girl, babe! Now that’s conviction!”

She closed her eyes, then held her breath until she felt the quick thrust of the needle in her butt. Slowly, she blew out air, feeling the surge in her body.

In control.

She grinned.

Life was good!

4

It tasted like wet sand. Decker didn’t know if it was the apple itself or his taste buds, but he ate it just to be polite. Cindy was worried about him, so he wanted to exhibit some normal behavior. As if doing routine things might suddenly turn the ordeal into something routine. His daughter and partner watched him chew. He became aware of the workings of his jaw, and it made his teeth hurt. He swallowed dryly and took his daughter’s hand.

“Thanks, princess.”

Marge stood. “You sit. I’ll get you some coffee.”

Decker nodded. Passivity was a role he seldom played, but he couldn’t summon enough strength to think on his own.

“This is the worst part, Daddy. The waiting.” Cindy hesitated a beat. “Maybe I should check to see if the baby’s been assigned to a nursery yet?”

“That would be great.”

“I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

Marge came back with the coffee.

“She’s a good kid, your daughter.”

“The best.”

“How was it having her for the summer?”

“Terrific. I think being needed has done wonders for her self-confidence. She’s been an enormous help to Rina these past couple of weeks … drove the boys all around. I’ll be sorry to see her leave.”

“How did she like her first year away?”

“She liked Columbia enough to go back. I think she enjoyed herself.”

“The typical college experience, huh?”

“Yeah, complete with bouts of exhilaration and depression—usually one right after the other.”

“Does she have a major?”

“Not yet. But she mentioned something about criminal sciences or whatever they call it back there.”

“Wonder where that came from?”

“As long as it’s not direct fieldwork, I’m all for it.”

“Sexist.”

“Parentist. I wouldn’t want my boys to be cops, either.” He ran his hand over his face. “God, this is just hell! What’s keeping the others? How much blood could Rina possibly need? Maybe I should look for them.”

He started to rise, but Marge pushed him back.

“Don’t spin your wheels, Pete. Stay here in case someone has some news for you.”

“I can’t believe this is happening.” Decker’s stomach juices were an ocean of nausea. “What’s taking them so goddamn long?”

He bounced up and began to pace. Marge didn’t try to stop him. At loose ends herself, she picked up a hospital magazine on parenting and absently flipped through the pages. All these pictures of smiling parents holding their newborn tykes. It made her feel very old and very single. She read an article on infant jaundice, learned more about the liver and bilirubin then she ever wanted to know. She had just about read the periodical cover to cover when Cindy returned, sporting a wide grin. Pete didn’t even notice her. Too busy flattening the carpet nap.

“What’s up, kiddo?” Marge asked.

“God, she’s huge!”

Decker stared at Cindy. It took him a moment to realize where he was. “Who’s huge?”

“Your daughter, Daddy. She’s at least twice the size of any of the other kids in the nursery. And she’s definitely the most alert—eyes wide open. You want to see her?”

“Now that sounds like a good idea,” Marge said.

Decker shook his head. “I don’t want the others to come back and find me gone.”

“So I’ll wait here,” Marge said.

Decker shook his head. “I just can’t … not now. Not … feeling the way I do.”

“I understand, Daddy. I just wanted you to know how great she’s doing.”

Decker felt tears in his eyes and rubbed them away. “Thank you, princess. I appreciate it.”

Cindy stuck her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “You want to see her, Marge? She’s in Nursery J.”

“I think I should wait with your dad.”

“No, go ahead, Marge,” Decker said. “Tell me she’s beautiful.”

“She is beautiful,” Cindy said.

“No, Pete, I’ll wait with you,” Marge said. “Watch you run a track in the carpet.”

“It’s better than punching out walls,” Decker said.

“Infinitely,” Marge said.

Cindy tapped her foot. “Well, if I’m not needed, maybe I’ll go back and visit the baby again. If the nurse’ll let me near her. She’s real weird!”

“In what way?” Marge asked.

“Actually, it was sort of my fault. I was so excited to see the baby. She’s right in the front of the window. I was playing with her, tapping on the glass. Then all of a sudden she started crying … all alone.” Cindy pouted. “So I went inside the nursery and asked if like, maybe someone could pick her up. For no reason, the nurse started screaming at me that she wasn’t anyone’s personal nanny, and if I didn’t leave instantly, I was going to infect all the babies. She made me feel like Typhoid Cindy. I wasn’t even near them!”

“Nurses sometimes get a little territorial,” Marge said.

“Yeah, you should have heard her rant when I asked if I could hold my sister. She started interrogating me: Just who was I, and what was my business with the baby anyway?”

“They have to be cautious, Cindy.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s why I figured if Dad came and said I was okay …” Cindy shrugged. “It’s not the right time. I’ll just go back and play with her through the window … if Marie doesn’t boot me away.”

“Marie’s the nurse?”

“Ms. Prune Face in white.”

Decker came over to them. “Ms. Prune Face in white?”

Cindy said, “The nurse who gave me a hard time about holding my sister.”

“What?” Decker said. “When was this?”

“Just a moment ago.”

“Why’d she give you a hard time?”

“Because she’s a weirdo.”

Marge said, “Cindy went into the nursery without being suited up. The nurse might have overreacted a little.”

“I wasn’t in the actual part where the babies were.”

“Cindy, please don’t make waves,” Decker said. “Not now, hon, okay?”

Cindy nodded and kissed her father’s cheek. “You really should see your new daughter, Daddy. She’s beautiful—all pink and bundled. And she has a loud, healthy cry. I could hear it through the window.”

“Wonderful,” Marge muttered.

“Keep an eye on her for me,” Decker said. “Just …”

“I know,” Cindy said. “I’ll keep it muzzled until we’re all back to normal. I can swim with that.”

Magda was carrying an armload of cellophane-wrapped snacks. Sammy was sandwiched between his brother and grandfather, his head resting against the old man’s side. Stefan had his arm around Sam’s waist. Sam’s complexion was pasty; his gait was slow and clumsy. Decker ran over and swooped the boy in his arms.

“Good Lord, what’s wrong?”

“I alone gave blood,” Sammy whispered. “That’s because I’m a manly, manly man.”

Decker smiled. Since his bar mitzvah, whenever there was a task requiring some physical strength, Sammy would always volunteer to do it, claiming that now he was a manly man. Decker placed his stepson on the couch.

“If you’re Dracula, I already gave at the office,” Sammy said.

“Very funny.” Decker brushed chestnut-colored bangs off the boy’s forehead. “What took you so long?”

“They wouldn’t let him go for a half hour,” Stefan said. “I think they really didn’t believe he was seventeen.”

“He isn’t seventeen!” Decker heard the raw anxiety in his voice. “Why’d you let him do it?”

“They had no choice,” Sammy said. “I insisted.”

“Nu, the boy has a mind of his own,” Stefan said.

“He needs to eat things with sugar, Akiva,” said Magda. “He don’t drink. Tell him to drink.”

Decker propped up his son’s head. “Drink, Sammy.”

“I’m full.”

“Then eat cookie,” Magda insisted.

“It’s not kosher,” Sammy pronounced.

“It’s made with vegetable shortening—”

“It doesn’t have hasgacha.”

Decker said, “I don’t care if it’s made out of pig’s feet, Sam, eat the damn cookie! Got it?”

“Yes, sir.” Sammy took the cookie and began to nibble on the edge. His face had suddenly regained a smidgen of color, and he seemed calm. Decker wondered if his sudden stern command had given the kid a sense that he was in control.

Stefan said, “We buy a pack of cards. Jake and I play poker. You want me to deal you in a round?”

“No thanks, Stefan,” Decker said.

“Then just we two play.” The old man looked at Jake. “What do we use for betting, Yonkie? I have box of Raisinettes.”

“Raisinettes are fine, Opah,” Jake answered back.

Magda said, “You don’t hear anything, Akiva?”

Decker shook his head.

“Where’s Cindy?”

“She went to visit the baby,” Marge said.

“The baby’s in the nursery?” Magda said.

“Yeah. Would you like me to take you there?”

“That would be nice.”

Marge smiled to herself. Mrs. Elias’s words came out Tat vood be nice. Her accent, along with the coiffed blue-black hair, heavy gold rings, and expensive clothes, suggested something untouchable. Perhaps under other circumstances, the woman would be aloof. But now she exuded an unmistakable warmth.

“Let’s go,” Marge said.

Magda said, “You feed Sammy, Akiva. Make sure he drinks.”

Decker said he would, noticing a gleam in his mother-in-law’s eyes. She was excited about the baby, and that was good. But his moment of relative quiescence was cut short by a figure draped in surgical greens coming through the double doors. The man’s step was quick and determined. His feet shuffled against the carpet. He threw his hand behind his neck and undid his mask as he walked. Decker recognized Dr. Hendricks and felt his knees buckle. Marge grabbed his arm.

“Sit down, Pete. It’s okay. She’s okay. I can see it in his eyes.”

The doctor was close enough to have heard her and seemed surprised by her confidence. “Yes, she’s going to be fine.”

The full report was interrupted by a host of baruch Hashems and mazel tovs, by hugs and tears and words of encouragement. The doctor waited until the excitement died down and then invited them to sit. The formality of his manner made Decker take note.

“What is it?” he asked.

Hendricks said, “Rina lost blood and is still heavily sedated—”

“When can I see her?” Decker broke in.

“When she’s out of Recovery. But she’s going to be there for a while. I’m going to put her in an ICU until I feel she’s strong enough and her blood count is elevated. But I’m extremely pleased. She’s doing remarkably, considering.” Hendricks looked at Sammy. “Last time I saw you in the flesh, you were six weeks old. I’d say there’s been a little growth since then. Maybe not seventeen years’ worth …”

Sammy smiled. Hendricks placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You did a great service for your mother. She has an unusual blood type, and yours was as perfect a match as they come. You always hope your kids’ll be there for you, and, my boy, you sure were. You really should be proud of yourself.”

The boy looked at his lap and nodded gravely. Hendricks smiled at Jake. “And you’ve changed a bit, too. Thanks for helping out, too, Jacob.”

The younger boy smiled back. Hendricks looked at the clock, then at Mr. and Mrs. Elias. “It’s almost ten. Visiting hours are just about over, but I’m sure if you’re quick, you can sneak in a peek at that beautiful granddaughter of yours. Then I want you all to go home and relax.”

“I can’t leave,” Decker said.

Hendricks frowned. “I won’t press you, Sergeant. I know you’re going to want to see Rina as soon as she comes out. But you really should try to rest.” To Mrs. Elias he said, “Take the boys home and get some sleep. You’re going to need to relieve him in the morning.”

“I will, Doctor.” Magda paused. “She’s really okay, my daughter?”

Dr. Hendricks took her hand and held it. “She’s really okay.”

“We just love her …”

Tears formed in Magda’s eyes. Stefan took his wife’s hand, squeezed it, then turned to Decker. “You come see your baby, Akiva. Just for a moment.”

“Go, Sergeant,” Hendricks said. “You could use a little joy.”

Slowly, Decker stood and blew out air. He didn’t want to go. What he wanted more than anything else was to see Rina. He wanted to hold her hand and kiss her long, slender fingers. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her. He didn’t want to be ecstatic while she was suffering. He didn’t want to do anything without her. Because nothing was as joyous as when they shared the moment together. But he decided to go see his daughter anyway. Because a little joy was better than none.

5

Cindy wiggled her fingers at the pink bundle with the saucer eyes, thinking the witch had purposely put the baby all the way in back. But it didn’t matter. Baby Girl Decker was so big and alert, she’d be visible wherever she was. The two layettes that abutted hers belonged to Baby Girl Rodriguez and Spencer Dole. BG Rodriguez was a teeny little thing with a head no bigger than a navel orange. She had thick black hair and wrinkled skin. Spencer had a fat, squat face and howled constantly. But BG Decker seemed unbothered by her roommates’ perplexities, preferring to drool on her paper bedsheet while trying to suck her thumb.

The nursery was a full house tonight—layettes filled with whites, blacks, Hispanics, and one Asian named Baby Boy Yamata who never cried. Rows of innocent babies out of Central Casting. Baby Girl Decker was living in a veritable pint-sized UN. A moment passed, then Baby Girl Jackson, representing the African-American contingent, opened a toothless mouth and let out a silent wail.

Nose to the glass, Cindy made silly faces at her sister, wishing she could hold her, hoping that Nurse Marie Bellson would go off shift and let her alone. The woman was intimidating, lean with knobby, rakelike fingers. Bellson was a deciduous tree in the wintertime—thin and barren. She had a way of making you feel guilty even if you hadn’t done anything.

Cindy’s eyes moved to the wall clock—visiting hours were almost over. She knew she’d have to leave any minute. As if to prove herself correct, she saw Bellson come out of the nursery. The woman was pure no-nonsense. She wore little makeup, and practical jewelry—a class ring, two gold stud earrings and a gold cross above her uniform breast pocket. She had attractive eyes, though—bright green spotted with brown. They’d be even prettier if they didn’t look so angry. Cindy put on her nicest smile.

“One more minute?”

Bellson shook her head. “You’re getting too attached to the baby. You’re her sister, not her mother.” She flicked her wrist. “Visiting hours are officially over. Good night.”

Cindy sighed, looked down the hallway, then broke into a grin. “That’s my father and my stepmother’s family.”

Bellson put her hands on her hips and shook her head again. Cindy jogged down the corridor and gave her father a bear hug.

“Rina’s okay?”

Decker linked arms with his daughter. “She’s out of surgery. Sammy gave her a pint of blood, God bless him.”

“But everything’s okay?”

“Not out of the woods yet, but I feel a lot better than I did an hour ago.”

“You look beat, Dad. You need rest.”

Decker knew she was right, but that was immaterial. He wasn’t going anywhere until he saw Rina. “Are you our personal escort?”

“Absolutely, if Bellson doesn’t kick us out. She just told me to leave.” Cindy frowned. “Here comes the Wicked Witch of the West now.”

A thin woman in white approached them. She had surface wrinkles trailing down the corners of her eyes and mouth and a set of wavy lines across her forehead—the kind of wrinkles that usually come from overtanning, except this woman held a proper Victorian pallor. Her hair was clean, but the color was dingy—pipewater from old plumbing. Her eyes were her saving grace—Kelly green sprinkled with coffee brown. They were clear and perceptive. She wasn’t pretty, but she managed to strike an attractive pose. Decker put her age at around forty. She held out her hand, and Decker took it.

“How is your wife, Mr. Decker?” Bellson asked.

“She’s still in Recovery.”

The RN nodded. “We’ve got the best post-op care in the country. So try not to worry. I’ll let you folks take a quick peek at the baby before I boot you out. Not my idea, but the babies are being transferred from the nurseries to their mothers for the ten o’clock feeding. We don’t like outside people in the wings while we’re wheeling them down the foyers. Who knows what kind of bugs they’re harboring.”

Magda said, “We be quick.”

“Come.” Bellson’s walk was brisk. “You’re the grandma? You look too young.” She stopped at the glass window. “She’s all the way in back. I’ll put her in front for you.”

Cindy watched Bellson disappear behind the nursery doors, amazed by the woman’s transformation. From sneers to smiles, she’d become all-accommodating. It made Cindy feel funny. Why was Bellson so mean to her and nice to everyone else? She shrugged. At least Dad was happy. His smile was genuine—first one she’d seen tonight. She went over and leaned her head against his arm. Together, they watched Bellson—who had donned a blue paper gown, gloves, and a face mask—rearrange the layettes until BG Decker was in front. Then the nurse picked her up and gave them a front view of the bundle. Cindy noticed that her father was holding back tears. He’d always been good at damming his emotions. It was one of the reasons why tonight seemed surreal. She had never seen him scared.

She said, “She looks like you, Daddy.”

“No, no, no,” Magda said, rapping gently on the glass. “She look like Ginny, but she has Akiva’s coloring—the red hair and fair skin.”

“Poor kid,” Decker said. “Another lobster in the sun.”

“Suntanning isn’t good for you anyway, Daddy,” Cindy said. “And if that’s not a cheap rationalization …”

“Grandma’s right,” Marge said. “She does look like Rina.”

“Of course she does,” Magda announced. “I’m good at faces. Nu, Stefan, tell them.”

“She’s good at the faces,” her husband stated.

Decker turned to his sons. “What do you think?”

“I think she’s funny-looking,” Jake said. “She’s all red.”

Magda gently hit his arm. “You were red when you were born.”

“No, no, no,” Stefan said. “Yonkie was never red. Shmuli was red.”

Decker regarded his elder stepson, still pale but steady on his feet. He seemed lost, his eyes unfocused. “Are you okay, Sam?”

“Huh?”

Decker put his arm around the boy. “What are you thinking about?”

“I wish I could see Eema. You know … just see her.”

“Boy, I know how you feel.”

“She’ll be okay, won’t she?”

“Doc assures me she’ll be fine. I believe him, Sammy.”

“When do you think you’ll see her?”

“I don’t know, Sammy. Soon, I hope.”

“Will you call us after you see her?”

“Depends on the time.” Decker hugged his shoulder gently. “I’m not going to call you at three in the morning.”

“No, you call us, Akiva,” his mother-in-law said. “I don’t sleep much tonight anyway. You call us as soon as you see Ginny. I want to know.” She wiped her eyes. “Please, you call.”

“I’ll call.”

“Maybe you call Rav Schulman in the morning,” Stefan suggested. “Ginny would want you to call him.”

Decker nodded, thinking it was a good idea. Over the years, the old rabbi had become more than Decker’s teacher, had become even more than a spiritual adviser. More than anything, Rav Schulman had become a wise and treasured friend. Decker could certainly use a little wisdom now. He watched Marie Bellson resettle his daughter back in the layette. To Cindy, he said, “The nurse seems okay.”

“To you.” Cindy shrugged. “Maybe I just rubbed her the wrong way. I didn’t mean anything. But sometimes I guess I get a little overexuberant.”

“Thanks for your help, Cindy.”

“You like your daughter?”

“I like both my daughters.”

Cindy stepped on her tiptoes and kissed her father’s cheek.

Nurse Bellson came back and placed her hands on her hips. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you all to leave. I’ve got to get these babies to their mothers. We don’t want any hungry infants.”

“Who’s going to feed our baby?” Cindy asked.

Decker noticed an immediate narrowing of Bellson’s eyes. The expression was subtle and fleeting, but it was strong enough to set his antennae quivering.

“I’m going to feed her personally just as soon as I finish wheeling the babies to their mothers,” Bellson said.

“Can I feed her?” Cindy asked. “I’ll gown up. Please?”

Decker cut in before Bellson could speak. “I think it would be a good idea if Cindy … I know my wife would like it. If you wouldn’t mind, Marie. I don’t want to upset any rules, but …”

Decker watched Bellson rock on her feet.

“It’s unusual,” she said.

“I promise I won’t get in your way,” Cindy said.

“That’d be a first,” Bellson muttered under her breath. Then she smiled. “I suppose I could allow it this one time. Go inside the nursery, but don’t go past the yellow line. I’ll suit you up in a minute.”

“Thank you very much, Marie,” Decker said. “I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.” Marie checked her watch again.

Decker said, “We’re leaving. Thanks.”

Marge hugged Decker. “Baby is just beautiful, Pete. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Thanks for coming down, Margie. Get some sleep. Some people have to work in the morning.”

“Three weeks to go, then it’s big time.” Marge gave him a quick salute. “See you in Homicide, big guy.”

“You call us, Akiva, when you see Ginny,” Magda reminded him. “I just want you to tell me she’s okay.”

“I promise, Magda.”

Decker knelt and drew his sons near him. “I want you guys to get some sleep. It’s been a long, torturous day, and we all need our rest.”

They nodded weakly. It was late, and anxiety had sapped their strength.

“Where you go now, Akiva?” Stefan asked.

“Back to the OB lobby. They promised they’d tell me as soon as Rina was out of Recovery. Come on, I’ll walk you to the elevators. Cindy, you’re staying here, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me when you’re done feeding the baby. Don’t you dare walk to your car by yourself.”

“I know, I know—”

“Don’t shine me on, Cynthia. I’m serious.”

“I promise I’ll check in with you.”

“Good.”

“Daddy?”

“What?”

“Does the baby have a name?”

“I think Rina wanted to wait until we named her in synagogue.”

Cindy hesitated. “It just might be nice to call her something. But I don’t want to ruin your tradition.”

Decker thought a moment. “I think Rina mentioned something about naming her Channa Shoshana—Hannah Rose in English.”

Magda erupted into tears. “That was my mother’s name. My mother, Channa, and Stefan’s mother, Shoshana, aleichem hashalom. Gottenu, I hadn’t thought about …” Again, the flood of tears. “Our other granddaughter was named after their side, so this be the first name for my mother.” She hugged her husband. “They’d be so proud, nu, Stefan.”