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

a foster family until your sister gets well.”
    â€œAnd then what?”
    â€œI’m sure they’ll keep tabs on the baby.”
    No one kept tabs on Janet or me that summer with Grace. She was good to us but we were lucky. The baby began to grunt and nudge the nipple and then finally latched on. She began to suckle.
    The nurse patted me on the arm. “Look, you’ve got her eating.”
    â€œI wish a bottle would fix all her troubles.”
    The nurse rose. “I’m gonna leave you two for a few minutes.”
    Panic cut through the worries. “I shouldn’t be left alone. I’m not licensed to do this.”
    â€œYou’re doing fine. When she’s done with the bottle, give a shout out.”
    Fear scraped against my gut. “But what if she chokes?”
    The nurse slid her hands in her pockets. “She won’t choke. You’re both doing fine.”
    The nurse ignored my pleading gaze and moved back toward her desk, where she typed into a computer.
    I looked at the baby—a blood relative, but a stranger. She seemed to sense this, too, as she suckled, but she wasn’t really relaxing into my arms. Her little fingers clenched into fists, and her body remained tense. I suspected if she could, she’d have jumped up and run away.
    â€œI feel ya, kid. I do. Janet hasn’t done either one of us a solid. And you know, I don’t have any answers. I’m as lost as you.” I leaned back in the rocker, willing my back to relax against the spindles. On high alert since this morning, I felt the flood of adrenaline slow to mere drops. Fatigue washed over my limbs and a weight settled on my chest. “Janet’s not going to be able to take you. Not now, anyway.”
    Suckling, the baby opened one eye. Babies were born farsighted so I knew she couldn’t really see me. But it didn’t feel that way. I imagined her wondering what kind of crappy karma from a past life landed her in this family. “You and me both, kid.”
    Her other eye opened. She suckled harder.
    â€œI have so much that needs to be done between now and Friday. And I don’t know much about babies. I’ve never changed a diaper.” Bubbles gurgled in the bottle and I raised the end until they slowed.
    â€œYou really will be better off if I get Social Services involved. They’ll find someone who can really take care of you.”
    The baby flexed her fingers and closed her eyes. Clearly, I’d get no argument from her.
    Her fingers were long and slender, unlike the customary chubby baby fingers. The nail beds were deep and the fingertips neatly rounded.They were Mom’s hands. Janet’s hands. Delicate. Lovely. These fingers were created to be painted a bright shade of pink and to wear diamonds. Perhaps to glide over piano keys.
    My fingers were short and stubby, destined for gripping a crowbar, scrubbing rust from an old metal lock, or wrestling weeds from the hard dirt.
    The baby’s hair color was a soft, pretty light brown. Little ears curled into a cherubic C shape and her pink lips dipped gently in the center.
    Her limbs were long, and I imagined she’d be tall like Janet, with an athletic build. She looked underweight, but I wasn’t sure if that was stress or if she’d inherited Janet’s knack for burning calories with little effort.
    Her nose turned up at the end and her face was round. Not long and lean like Janet’s, but kinda like mine. “At least you didn’t get my short legs.”
    Cataloguing her features and finding a bit of me was unsettling. Whereas I could never see myself in my nephew, I could see a bit of me in this baby.
    I closed my eyes. In the end, it didn’t matter if her legs were long or if her face was round or lean. The only factor that mattered was that she was a Shire female. And Shire females were cursed.
    â€œI’ve lived with this curse all my life,” I whispered as I rocked.