Grievous Sin. Faye Kellerman

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      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 СКАЧАТЬ