Chương 7
Rachel almost smiled.
Evelyn moved her lips in sleep.
Rachel slid one hand under the back of her head and the other beneath her body.
She had rehearsed this while pregnant.
Daniel had attended a newborn class with her. They practiced using a plastic doll. He had dropped his doll’s hat and Rachel had teased him for acting as though he had committed manslaughter.
Now her hands shook.
Tessa said, “Bring her close before you lift.”
Rachel did.
The baby was heavier than grief had allowed her to imagine.
Warm.
Solid.
Annoyed at being moved.
Evelyn made a small protesting sound.
Rachel froze.
“It’s okay,” Tessa said.
Rachel lowered her face near the baby’s head.
There was a smell she did not know.
Soap, milk, something warm.
Six weeks of smells she had missed.
She began crying without making a sound.
Evelyn opened her eyes.
Rachel waited for recognition.
None came.
Of course none came.
The realization wounded her in a new way.
Her daughter looked at her as she might have looked at anyone.
Rachel had imagined motherhood beginning with instinct, with an invisible thread neither time nor deception could break. Instead she was holding a baby who did not know her.
Tessa seemed to read her face.
“She knows warmth. She knows voice. She knows being held. The rest is learned.”
Rachel looked up.
“Did Daniel ask you to say that?”
Tessa’s eyebrows rose.
“No.”
“Sorry.”
“I’m getting the impression apologies are going to be a full-time job around here.”
Rachel looked back at Evelyn.
After a moment she said, “I don’t want them telling me what I’m supposed to feel.”
“Then I won’t.”
“What if she cries?”
“She probably will.”
“What if I can’t calm her?”
“Then she cries.”
Rachel blinked.
“That’s it?”
“That’s babies.”
Evelyn slept against her for twenty-three minutes.
Rachel knew because she checked the clock repeatedly.
At minute seventeen, her left arm began hurting.
She refused to move.
At minute nineteen, Tessa said, “You’re allowed to switch arms.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re grimacing.”
“I’m emotional.”
“You’re losing circulation.”
Rachel switched arms.
Nothing terrible happened.
At minute twenty-three, Evelyn woke and began crying.
Rachel’s body reacted before her mind did.
She stood.
The sound filled the small rental apartment.
It was not the thin cry Rachel remembered from the operating room. It was louder, angrier.
Beautiful was the wrong word.
It was a baby yelling because something was wrong in the limited universe available to her.
Rachel held her closer.
“I’m here.”
Evelyn cried harder.
Rachel looked at Tessa.
“I’m doing it wrong.”
“Probably hungry again.”
“She just ate.”
“Babies are disrespectful of schedules.”
Rachel gave a broken laugh.
Tessa prepared a bottle.
Rachel fed her daughter.
That evening Daniel asked for a visit.
Rachel said no.
The next morning she said yes.
She did not do it for him.
Evelyn knew him.
That fact hurt, but Rachel could not punish the baby for it.
Daniel arrived at the rental without a lawyer. Leah remained in the kitchen.
He stopped when he saw Rachel holding Evelyn on the sofa.
Rachel watched his face.
Something like relief moved through it.
She resented him for that too.
He sat in the chair opposite them.
For several minutes no one spoke.
Evelyn slept.
Finally Daniel said, “She likes being held upright after she eats.”
Rachel’s eyes moved to him.
He immediately looked ashamed.
“I’m not telling you what to do.”
“You just did.”
“I’m sorry.”
Rachel adjusted the blanket.
Daniel watched her hands.
“She gets hiccups.”
“Stop.”
He nodded.
Another silence.
Rachel said, “Why did your mother have a gray blanket at the reception?”
Daniel looked confused.
“What?”
“This blanket.”
“It’s from Hawthorne.”
“Was it hers the whole time?”
“Yes.”
Rachel touched the fabric.
An ordinary blanket.
No symbol.
No secret.
She was strangely relieved.
“Why was Evelyn at the reception?”
Daniel rubbed his fingers together.
“Mom wanted photographs.”
Rachel stared at him.
“For what?”
“The foundation announcement.”
“She was going to use my daughter in a pediatric charity campaign?”
“She said we needed to normalize her being seen with us.”
Rachel felt cold.
“Normalize what story?”
“That she was staying with us because a relative was unable to care for her.”
“You were going to invent a mother.”
Daniel’s face tightened.
“I told her no.”
“But you brought Evelyn.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I thought if people saw her, the secret would become impossible to maintain.”
Rachel stared at him.
Daniel leaned forward.
“I know how that sounds.”
“How does it sound?”
“Cowardly.”
“Yes.”
“I couldn’t make myself tell you. I thought if the situation became unstable enough, someone would force it into the open.”
Rachel looked at her daughter.
“So you used a room full of people to do what you couldn’t.”
“Yes.”
That answer surprised her.
She had expected another defense.
Daniel looked at Evelyn.
“I had started sleeping two hours a night. Every time she cried, I thought you could hear her.”
Rachel’s mouth tightened.
“You don’t get haunted by my part.”
“I know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“I don’t have better words.”
For once, Rachel believed him.
It did not help.
Nora Singh met with Leah two days later.
She brought no stolen records.
That disappointed Rachel until Leah explained it was better that way.
Nora brought her own contemporaneous notes and copies of emails she had sent through proper hospital channels asking why an infant initially listed under Rachel’s maternity episode had disappeared from her work queue.
One email was time-stamped six hours after Evelyn’s birth.
Please confirm transfer destination. Mother has awakened and is repeatedly asking about infant.
The reply came from a nursing supervisor.
Family and attending physician are managing communication. Do not independently contact mother regarding neonatal status.
Rachel read the sentence again.
“Family.”
Nora nodded.
“I thought they meant Daniel.”
“Did you know Margaret was involved?”
“She was everywhere.”
Rachel looked up.
May you like
Nora’s expression tightened.
“She had a private room down the hall. She was making calls. She asked for names of every nurse who entered your room.”
