Faye Kellerman - Grievous Sin

“Oh dear, I’m very sorry.”

“You can understand why I don’t want to alarm them.”

“Absolutely. I didn’t realize …”

Decker stared at his empty glass. “How about a little guidance here?”

Georgina thought a moment. “Be low-key and tell them the truth. That the doctor is still with Rina but just as a precaution. She’s having a little trouble expelling the afterbirth.” She patted his hand. “I know this is going to sound a little cavalier, but you’re getting worked up over nothing, Sergeant.”

“What happens if she can’t deliver it?” Decker asked.

Georgina frowned. “You’re very persistent.”

Decker shrugged helplessly.

Georgina sighed. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, because I don’t know your wife’s individual situation—”

“But?”

“But sometimes the placenta has an obnoxious habit of sticking to the uterine wall. Sometimes to get it all out, the doctor has to go in and do a D and C. It’s done under anesthesia, and that’s probably why Dr. Hendricks wanted an anesthesiologist.”

“Oh.” Decker felt his shoulders relax a fraction. “A D and C’s kind of a routine procedure, isn’t it?”

Georgina paused. “I shouldn’t be telling you anything. Pretend we didn’t have this discussion, okay?”

“All right.” Decker blew out air. “Thanks. Really, it helps.” He ran his hand through thick ginger hair. “Is there any way you can peek in and—”

“No, Sergeant.”

Slowly, Decker rose to his feet. “I’m okay.”

“You’re sure?”

Decker nodded. Georgina gave him a bear hug.

“Now you go in there and smile. Your wife’s in very good hands. You go tell the family the good news about your new little daughter.”

His new little daughter. Decker had forgotten about her.

Six pairs of beaming eyes greeted him. Even across the third-floor lobby, Decker could see their excitement and expectation. It was all he could do to keep from gagging, but that was probably him. Worried over nothing. But now he had to think of the boys. Not to mention Rina’s parents, who had already gone through hell fifty years ago. No need to set everyone in a panic over a little medical problem.

He took a deep breath, ran his hand along the surgical blue pants, and put on the smile. To make it genuine, he thought about his new little daughter. He did a slow lope across the waiting room, dodging couches and chairs upholstered in houndstooth wool and coffee tables sprouting Styrofoam cups. The room held a few lone souls reading paperbacks and checking their watches as well as one other small grouping similar to his own clan—a family expecting to hear news soon. He approached his entourage.

“Well?” his mother-in-law asked.

Her “Well” came out “Vell.” The Eliases were Hungarian. Stefan was strong and squat in contrast to Madga, who was lean. Her dress and accent reminded Decker of a dark-haired Zsa Zsa Gabor.

“A healthy little girl,” he announced.

“Ah, Akiva, mazel tov!” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Boys, you have a new little sister!”

And for a moment, Decker did feel good, caught up in the hugging and well-wishing. Sammy pumped his hand and said that a sister wasn’t the bar mitzvah present he had in mind. Jake whooped like a crane. Cindy simply slapped his back and told him “Way to go!”

It was Marge who held back. When he caught her eye, she smiled and winked at him, but Decker could feel her studying his expression. She knew: the way it is with partners. Quickly, he held a finger in the air—a sign to her not to push it. She understood.

“And how is my little Ginny?” Stefan asked. “When do we see her?”

His little Ginny, Decker thought. The Eliases called Rina by her English name, Regina. Ginny for short.

His little Ginny. His little daughter!

Remain calm, Deck.

“Akiva?” Magda asked. “Everything is okay, yes?”

Decker bit his lip. Damn it, he couldn’t keep the anxiety in check. Cut to the chase.

“Well, Magda, she has a teeny problem. She’s still with the doctor.”

Magda brought her hand to her chest and fired out a series of foreign sentences that sounded like questions.

“Magda, I don’t understand Hungarian,” Decker said.

Stefan said, “What do you mean, a problem?”

“She’s having a little trouble expelling the afterbirth. I’m sure it’s noth—”

“But she’s okay, no?” Magda interrupted. “Where is she?”

“With the doc—”

“How long will she be with him?” Magda said.

“I don’t know, Magda,” Decker said. “The doctor didn’t tell me. So why don’t we sit down and relax while we wait.”

“There’s no one we can talk to, Akiva?” Magda said.

Decker glanced at his stepsons, then shot a meaningful look at his mother-in-law. Though upset, Magda took a deep breath and smiled at the boys. Then she placed her hand over her mouth—as if her fist would muzzle her apprehension.

Decker winked at his stepsons and received scared expressions. He knew he should say something reassuring, but he was afraid that the words might sound hollow. Instead, he took a position on the arm of the couch, drawing Sammy under the wing of his right arm.

Magda paused, then perched herself on the edge of the sofa. She brushed imaginary specks off black wool pants and camel jacket. Rina had inherited her mother’s coloring—the dark hair and light eyes—but Magda was thinner, bonier, than her daughter. Stefan cuddled Jake next to his muscular chest. He was dressed in a gray shirt that matched his hair, and black pants. On his feet were orthopedic shoes. Something new, Decker realized. Cindy stood behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Decker turned around and gave her a weak smile. At nineteen, his daughter had turned into a young woman—tall, with radiance in her expressive brown eyes. Her face had lost its adolescent roundness and now had the bone structure of a newly crowned adult along with a tan from the summer sun.

Magda blurted, “Does doctor say this is a big problem?”

Decker said, “No, he was pretty casual about it. Just wanted to watch her as a precaution.”

Hell if he’d tell his mother-in-law about her daughter bleeding a tad more than Hendricks liked. And it was probably no big deal. Decker remembered his first wife having a D and C after the birth of their second child. Jan had been just fine. Unfortunately, the baby had been stillborn—a boy. Morbid, unwanted thoughts began to invade Decker’s brainspace. He tried to shake off the nightmarish memory.