At the Corner of King Street by Mary Ellen Taylor Read Free Book Online Page A

Janet.
    â€œShe needs you.”
    A warning voice in the back of my head screamed for me to run.
Don’t hold this baby. She’ll steal your heart. You’re not that strong.
“Sure. Fine. I’ll give her a bottle.”
    I followed her into the nursery and was immediately struck by the volume of my niece’s crying. The sound scraped along my spine. “Kid’s got some lungs.”
    The nurse reached for a pile of gowns and handed one to me. “She’s been crying nonstop since she was born.”
    â€œIs she sick?” I set my purse down and slid my arms into the gown.
    â€œNo. She’s physically healthy. Apgar score was a ten.”
    I washed my hands in a small sink and dried them with paper towels. “Has she been tested for drugs?”
    â€œYes,” the nurse said. “She’s negative.”
    â€œWhat about signs of fetal alcohol? Any signs of that?”
    â€œThe staff pediatrician checked her out. She shows no signs.”
    â€œSo why is she crying?”
    The nurse opened a sterile bottle filled with sugar water as shemoved to the bassinet. She picked up the baby with a practiced ease. “I think she’s stressed. Babies pick up a lot when they’re in the womb, and your sister was clearly in crisis when she arrived.” She nodded toward an empty rocker.
    I sat in a rocker, grateful to be off my feet. The baby’s wails echoed in the room. “Did my sister say anything about where she was or what she was doing before she returned to Alexandria?”
    â€œNo.” The nurse cradled the baby in the crook of her arm and swayed gently back and forth. I sat stiffly, afraid and wanting to run.
    The nurse settled the baby in my arms. She didn’t fit as neatly in my arms as she had in the nurse’s arms. In fact, she felt rigid. Her crying grew louder.
    â€œYou need to relax,” the nurse said. “If you’re tense, then she’s going to be tense.”
    â€œWell then, we’re in for some real trouble because I’m about to have a nervous breakdown.”
    The nurse pulled up a chair beside me. “You’re folding her up like a wallet. Relax your arm. Breathe.”
    I jerked my arm down so the baby wasn’t scrunched. The nurse moved my arm gently back and forth in a rocking motion. The baby settled a little, but she still continued to whimper.
    â€œShe likes to be held?” I asked.
    â€œWhen we’re stressed, we like a nice hug now and again.”
    I blew a stray strand of hair out of my eyes. “I’m feeling like I could use a good hug. And a few glasses of wine.”
    â€œAre you a drinker?”
    My feeble attempt at humor fell flat. I could taste wine all day long because tasting required swirling the wine in your mouth and then spitting it out. I could tell you if a Cabernet was good or not or if aRiesling was too sweet or tart. “Sorry, bad joke. I’m good for a glass once in a while.”
    The nurse smiled. She held up the bottle. “This is sugar water. We’ll start her on formula tomorrow. Unless you think your sister will breast-feed?”
    â€œNot likely. The psychiatrist is going to put her on heavy-duty meds, and it can’t be great for the baby.”
    She handed me the sugar water bottle. “Brush her lips with it. She’ll know it’s there and suckle.”
    â€œI’m not sure why I’m doing this. I’m not in a position to take care of a baby right now. I don’t live in Alexandria. I have another life that is so far away from all this.”
    The nurse smiled and gently nudged my hand so that the tip of the nipple grazed the baby’s lips. “Would you like me to contact Social Services?”
    I stared at the baby. The waters around me might look calm, but I was like a duck, paddling as fast as I could below the surface to keep it all together. “What will Social Services do?”
    â€œThey’d find her