Faye Kellerman: Grievous Sin

Decker shook his head. “I don’t want the others to come back and find me gone.”

“So I’ll wait here,” Marge said.

Decker shook his head. “I just can’t … not now. Not … feeling the way I do.”

“I understand, Daddy. I just wanted you to know how great she’s doing.”

Decker felt tears in his eyes and rubbed them away. “Thank you, princess. I appreciate it.”

Cindy stuck her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “You want to see her, Marge? She’s in Nursery J.”

“I think I should wait with your dad.”

“No, go ahead, Marge,” Decker said. “Tell me she’s beautiful.”

“She is beautiful,” Cindy said.

“No, Pete, I’ll wait with you,” Marge said. “Watch you run a track in the carpet.”

“It’s better than punching out walls,” Decker said.

“Infinitely,” Marge said.

Cindy tapped her foot. “Well, if I’m not needed, maybe I’ll go back and visit the baby again. If the nurse’ll let me near her. She’s real weird!”

“In what way?” Marge asked.

“Actually, it was sort of my fault. I was so excited to see the baby. She’s right in the front of the window. I was playing with her, tapping on the glass. Then all of a sudden she started crying … all alone.” Cindy pouted. “So I went inside the nursery and asked if like, maybe someone could pick her up. For no reason, the nurse started screaming at me that she wasn’t anyone’s personal nanny, and if I didn’t leave instantly, I was going to infect all the babies. She made me feel like Typhoid Cindy. I wasn’t even near them!”

“Nurses sometimes get a little territorial,” Marge said.

“Yeah, you should have heard her rant when I asked if I could hold my sister. She started interrogating me: Just who was I, and what was my business with the baby anyway?”

“They have to be cautious, Cindy.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s why I figured if Dad came and said I was okay …” Cindy shrugged. “It’s not the right time. I’ll just go back and play with her through the window … if Marie doesn’t boot me away.”

“Marie’s the nurse?”

“Ms. Prune Face in white.”

Decker came over to them. “Ms. Prune Face in white?”

Cindy said, “The nurse who gave me a hard time about holding my sister.”

“What?” Decker said. “When was this?”

“Just a moment ago.”

“Why’d she give you a hard time?”

“Because she’s a weirdo.”

Marge said, “Cindy went into the nursery without being suited up. The nurse might have overreacted a little.”

“I wasn’t in the actual part where the babies were.”

“Cindy, please don’t make waves,” Decker said. “Not now, hon, okay?”

Cindy nodded and kissed her father’s cheek. “You really should see your new daughter, Daddy. She’s beautiful—all pink and bundled. And she has a loud, healthy cry. I could hear it through the window.”

“Wonderful,” Marge muttered.

“Keep an eye on her for me,” Decker said. “Just …”

“I know,” Cindy said. “I’ll keep it muzzled until we’re all back to normal. I can swim with that.”

Magda was carrying an armload of cellophane-wrapped snacks. Sammy was sandwiched between his brother and grandfather, his head resting against the old man’s side. Stefan had his arm around Sam’s waist. Sam’s complexion was pasty; his gait was slow and clumsy. Decker ran over and swooped the boy in his arms.

“Good Lord, what’s wrong?”

“I alone gave blood,” Sammy whispered. “That’s because I’m a manly, manly man.”

Decker smiled. Since his bar mitzvah, whenever there was a task requiring some physical strength, Sammy would always volunteer to do it, claiming that now he was a manly man. Decker placed his stepson on the couch.

“If you’re Dracula, I already gave at the office,” Sammy said.

“Very funny.” Decker brushed chestnut-colored bangs off the boy’s forehead. “What took you so long?”

“They wouldn’t let him go for a half hour,” Stefan said. “I think they really didn’t believe he was seventeen.”

“He isn’t seventeen!” Decker heard the raw anxiety in his voice. “Why’d you let him do it?”

“They had no choice,” Sammy said. “I insisted.”

“Nu, the boy has a mind of his own,” Stefan said.

“He needs to eat things with sugar, Akiva,” said Magda. “He don’t drink. Tell him to drink.”

Decker propped up his son’s head. “Drink, Sammy.”

“I’m full.”

“Then eat cookie,” Magda insisted.

“It’s not kosher,” Sammy pronounced.

“It’s made with vegetable shortening—”

“It doesn’t have hasgacha.”

Decker said, “I don’t care if it’s made out of pig’s feet, Sam, eat the damn cookie! Got it?”

“Yes, sir.” Sammy took the cookie and began to nibble on the edge. His face had suddenly regained a smidgen of color, and he seemed calm. Decker wondered if his sudden stern command had given the kid a sense that he was in control.

Stefan said, “We buy a pack of cards. Jake and I play poker. You want me to deal you in a round?”

“No thanks, Stefan,” Decker said.

“Then just we two play.” The old man looked at Jake. “What do we use for betting, Yonkie? I have box of Raisinettes.”

“Raisinettes are fine, Opah,” Jake answered back.

Magda said, “You don’t hear anything, Akiva?”

Decker shook his head.

“Where’s Cindy?”

“She went to visit the baby,” Marge said.

“The baby’s in the nursery?” Magda said.

“Yeah. Would you like me to take you there?”

“That would be nice.”

Marge smiled to herself. Mrs. Elias’s words came out Tat vood be nice. Her accent, along with the coiffed blue-black hair, heavy gold rings, and expensive clothes, suggested something untouchable. Perhaps under other circumstances, the woman would be aloof. But now she exuded an unmistakable warmth.

“Let’s go,” Marge said.

Magda said, “You feed Sammy, Akiva. Make sure he drinks.”

Decker said he would, noticing a gleam in his mother-in-law’s eyes. She was excited about the baby, and that was good. But his moment of relative quiescence was cut short by a figure draped in surgical greens coming through the double doors. The man’s step was quick and determined. His feet shuffled against the carpet. He threw his hand behind his neck and undid his mask as he walked. Decker recognized Dr. Hendricks and felt his knees buckle. Marge grabbed his arm.

“Sit down, Pete. It’s okay. She’s okay. I can see it in his eyes.”

The doctor was close enough to have heard her and seemed surprised by her confidence. “Yes, she’s going to be fine.”

The full report was interrupted by a host of baruch Hashems and mazel tovs, by hugs and tears and words of encouragement. The doctor waited until the excitement died down and then invited them to sit. The formality of his manner made Decker take note.

“What is it?” he asked.

Hendricks said, “Rina lost blood and is still heavily sedated—”

“When can I see her?” Decker broke in.

“When she’s out of Recovery. But she’s going to be there for a while. I’m going to put her in an ICU until I feel she’s strong enough and her blood count is elevated. But I’m extremely pleased. She’s doing remarkably, considering.” Hendricks looked at Sammy. “Last time I saw you in the flesh, you were six weeks old. I’d say there’s been a little growth since then. Maybe not seventeen years’ worth …”

Sammy smiled. Hendricks placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You did a great service for your mother. She has an unusual blood type, and yours was as perfect a match as they come. You always hope your kids’ll be there for you, and, my boy, you sure were. You really should be proud of yourself.”