Grievous Sin

“It’s different when it’s your wife.”

Cerebrally, he was prepared. Emotionally, he wasn’t. Her complexion was chalky gray, lips so pale they blended with the rest of her skin tone. Her hair had been pulled off her face. What strands did show were limp with perspiration. Her left arm was attached to a board on the bedrail, the underside bruised and milky white. An I.V. was held in place by big white bandages at her wrist. The rest of her body was covered by a bedsheet. Her sleep seemed deep—not a hint of movement under her delicate lids. He’d seen stiffs with better color. That thought gave him a chill.

He was afraid to touch her, afraid she might turn to dust like an antique document. Carefully, he edged his hand toward her cheek, letting it rest above her mouth for just a moment, felt her sweet breath upon his palm. He inched his fingers to her lips, then quickly removed his hand. Biting his lower lip, he pulled a chair by her bedside and broke into the shakes. He knew he should call Rina’s parents, but he needed time to convince himself that she was really okay.

He hugged his body and watched his wife sleep. Forcing himself calm, he took her hand in his, encircled his fingers around hers. She didn’t stir. He didn’t remember how long he sat like that. The next thing he knew, the doctor was waking him again. His eyes went to the wall clock. It was after twelve. Slowly, he extricated his hand from Rina’s. She hadn’t changed position.

Decker stood and the doctor put his arm around him. He whispered, “Let’s go in my office.”

“It’s okay to leave her?”

“Yes, she’s fine.”

They stepped outside the ICU into a brightly lit hallway, eerie because it was so empty. Then Decker stopped.

“My daughter!”

“Your baby’s doing great, Peter. Pediatrician’ll be in tomorrow if you want to talk to him.”

“No, my other daughter,” Decker said. “She’s nineteen. She was with the baby. I told her to check in with me before she left. If she walked by herself to the parking lot, I’ll wring her neck. You keep thinking there’ll come a time when you’ll stop worrying about your kids …”

“Nah, it never comes,” Hendricks said.

“Do you mind if I find out where she is?”

“Go ahead. My office is room six-seventy-eight B. I’ll wait for you there.”

Decker asked Hendricks how to get to Nursery J. As he listened to the doc’s words, he was acutely aware of the fact that his ears were hearing, but his brain wasn’t processing. Although Hendricks had pointed him in the right direction, Decker didn’t know where he was going. He was senile from worry and lack of sleep, walking in a stuporous state down long plush corridors that seemed to meld into other hallways that led nowhere.

After a couple of false starts, he somehow reached the correct nursery. He peeked in the window—two rows of layettes containing bundles topped by little fuzzy heads. As his eyes danced over the tiny faces, Decker suddenly realized that his own infant daughter’s bassinet was gone. That jolted his heart and cleared his brain.

He knocked on the entry to the nursery but didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he turned the knob just as a scrub-suited woman opened the door from the other side. She was middle-aged and petite, her face small and pinched. She was wearing a hair cap. Her name tag said DARLENE JAMISON, RN.

“I’m Peter Decker. I was just wondering where my baby was. My baby daughter … and my other one, too. Both my daughters. Did you happen to see—”

“You’re Cindy’s father. Can tell ’cause of the hair. Relax. She’s fine … in the back with the baby. They’re both sleeping.” Darlene broke into a grin and shook her head. “Come in. If you want to see your dynamic duo, you’re gonna have to put on some protective clothing. And you’ll have to take your shoes off, too.”

Decker stepped inside the waiting area of the nursery, the anteroom so brightly lit it hurt his eyes. Instantly, his ears were assaulted by high-pitched squalls and protests. His eyes drifted over to the layettes. Baby Girl Jackson seemed to be making most of the noise. Her mouth was wide open, and she was howling up a storm. She sat between Baby Girl Rodriguez, who was beet red from her wailing, and Baby Boy Yamata, who seemed above it all. His big eyes were open and staring at the ceiling as if to say, Lord, what is wrong with all these people?

Decker couldn’t help but smile. A big yellow line set out the perimeters of where he was allowed to place his feet. Beyond the line was a glassed hallway on either side, doors leading to the nurseries. As far as Decker could see, Darlene was the only person tending sheep.

“My daughters are okay?” Decker said.

“Dandy.” Darlene chuckled. “Hope you realize your big girl’s a real mama lion. She’s very attached to the baby. When things settle down, you might want to gently remind her that she’s the sister, not the mother.”

Decker ran his hands down his face.

“Not what you wanted to hear, huh?” Darlene patted his shoulder. “Sorry. Cindy’ll be fine. How’s your wife doing?”

“She’s pretty wiped out. Her doctor’s waiting to talk to me. Do you want me to talk to Cindy now?”

“No, not at all. I don’t mean to say that Cindy is a problem. She’s a great kid, full of spunk. I think it’s kinda cute. ’Course, I’m a little hang-loose. Single mother of three, five years on the graveyard shift, you learn to relax and smile if you want to survive. I’m pretty much my own boss. No one bothers to come down and check things out at one in the morning. Marie’s the one with all the pressure.”

“Did Marie and Cindy get into any kind of conflict?”

“Well, it’s not that Cindy’s gettin’ in the way, it’s … I think it’s a turf problem. Marie’s an institution here. She’s used to postpartum moms—tired, anxious, and willing to hang on to everything Marie’s got to say. Now a kid like Cindy comes along—full of energy. Marie’s just not used to that. Marie told me to kick Cindy out when I came on shift at eleven. But, heck, she really seems like a good kid. Talks nicely about you, her mom, her stepmom and stepbrothers. I know this is her first sibling, and she’s so excited. I just didn’t have the heart. And then she fell asleep …”

“I’ll talk to her.”

“You don’t have to do it now, Detective …” Darlene paused. “Is that the right title?”

Technically, it was Detective Sergeant, but Decker told her Detective was fine.

“I don’t care really,” Darlene said. “I like Cindy. But Marie’s the boss. You’ll have to work by her rules.”

“I understand.” Decker took an Advil from his pocket and popped the pill in his mouth. “Let me talk to the doctor, then I’ll come back.”

“You’ve got two lovely daughters,” Darlene said. “And I know you’ve got some stepsons, too—a real nice family. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. Do you have any idea where six-seventy-eight B is?”

Darlene laughed. “Place is a maze, isn’t it? I’ll at least get you to the elevator and give you directions from there.” She crooked a finger. “This way.”

Decker followed her, an obedient robot wondering why the hair on his neck was standing on end. It wasn’t because he was tired. It wasn’t because Darlene had told him that basically Cindy was being a pain in the neck. It wasn’t even because of Rina. It wasn’t until he was standing in front of the door to room 678B that he figured out what was bothering him. It was Darlene Jamison, RN. She was the only one Decker had seen actually in Nursery J. And she had left the babies alone to walk him to the elevator.

Hendricks’s hospital office was designed strictly for function. Into the small space were crammed a standard institutional-issue metal desk, a low-back secretary’s chair, and two waiting-room chairs that had seen better days. On the walls were metal shelves holding reference books, medical tomes, and an old coffeemaker. Decker recalled the doctor’s private-practice office—decorated to the hilt. But for some reason, Decker felt Hendricks was more at home here. He seemed more relaxed. Maybe it was just fatigue.

“Have a seat.” Hendricks opened a chart on his desk. “Did you find your daughter?”

“She was with the baby in the nursery. Apparently, she’s becoming quite attached to her.”

“It’s her first sibling, isn’t it?”

“She has stepbrothers, but this is different.”

“Is she close to her stepbrothers?”

The questions seemed out of place—too personal. Must be trying out some rapport-building, Decker thought. The guy had something on his mind but didn’t want to jump into it.

“She likes her stepbrothers, but the relationships aren’t close ones. Not a lot of history between them.”

Hendricks shifted in his seat. “Are you close to your stepsons?”

Decker paused, thinking what a weird question that was. Maybe Hendricks was worried he was going to show favoritism. He shouldn’t have been concerned.

“I’m very close to them. I consider them my own sons, and I love them dearly.”

“Are you their legal father?”