Elizabeth Harbison - Mission Creek Mother-To-Be

“After lunch,” Jared said. “If you’re a good boy till then, we’ll play a little ball before I go back to work.”

The child’s face brightened. “I be good!”

Jared laughed. “Then I’ll see you after lunch.”

Em walked up behind Melanie and watched the scene with her. “That’s little Johnny Souffel. Last month he turned three and still hadn’t said a word. Dr. Cross has been treating him for just over four weeks and the difference, as you can see, is remarkable.”

Melanie was surprised. Granted, she didn’t know much about children, but she wouldn’t have believed that a month ago Johnny didn’t talk. “So Dr. Cross does something here other than family planning?” she asked Em.

“Oh, my, yes. Dr. Cross is the finest child psychiatrist in all of Texas. Maybe even in the whole United States.”

Melanie turned to Em. “Child psychiatrist? Are you serious?”

“Yes, indeed.”

She wanted to ask why on earth he was wasting his time and talent trying to talk people out of having children, but she didn’t know Em well enough for that. “So he just volunteers at the clinic or something?”

“Oh, yes, he’s done it for years. He’s a fierce child-welfare advocate. He’s done a lot of good work at the clinic, and arranged more than a few very successful adoptions.” Em clucked her tongue like a proud mother hen. “The children are so lucky to have him.”

Melanie watched little Johnny go over to an older boy and hold a block out to him. “You play?” he asked, and the older child took the block and set it on the pile he’d already arranged into a wall.

Then Johnny went over and knocked the whole thing down.

“You had a different impression of Dr. Cross, didn’t you?” Em asked gently.

Melanie began to object, but the director held up a hand and said, “A lot of people get the wrong impression when they first meet him.”

Melanie smiled. “I guess it’s fair to say that I didn’t think he was the kindly type when I first met him.”

Em chuckled. “I don’t think I’m telling tales out of school when I say that Dr. Cross has a more natural rapport with children than adults. But he’s a good man. I like him very much.”

Although Melanie couldn’t go so far as to agree with everything Em said, she nodded. “It certainly looks as if the children like him.”

“There’s no better gauge of character than that,” Em said, then let out an alarmed exclamation and called, “Allison, Paul, we do not pour water on each other’s heads!” She gave Melanie a quick, exasperated smile. “Excuse me. Duty calls. Why don’t you get to know the children?”

But how? Melanie wanted to ask, but the director had already gone to tend to the crisis. She’d simply approach one of the kids and get started that way. It wasn’t that big a deal. She’d chatted with dignitaries from all over the world; she’d been to state dinners at the White House and tea at Buckingham Palace.

Children couldn’t be that much more intimidating.

A nurse walked in holding a small toddler. She approached Melanie and shifted the child from one hip to the other. “Hi, I’m Linda Darrow,” she said. “Do you know where Em is?”

Melanie started to point to where Em had just been with Allison and Paul, but she was nowhere to be seen. “She was just here. I’m sure she’ll be back in a moment.”

Linda looked at her watch. “Oh, rats, I’m already late for my shift.”

“Is there something I could help you with?” Melanie asked, hoping she sounded more confident than she was.

The woman frowned. “Do you work here?”

“No. Well, yes, but only temporarily. You see, I—”

“Wait a minute. You’re Melanie Tourbier!” Linda gasped. She clapped a hand to her cheek. “Oh my gosh, I thought that was just a rumor!”

Melanie felt her face go hot. “You thought what was a rumor?”

“That you were here at the hospital.” The nurse shook her head. “I thought you looked familiar…You don’t look like your pictures.”

“Pictures can be manipulated. Believe me.”

“I know it,” Linda said. “My husband was at the airport last month and got a picture taken that looks just like he’s standing there with the President. Of course, it’s just a cutout.”

Melanie laughed.

“What on earth are you doing working in the nursery?” Linda asked, then lowered her voice. “Are you trying to escape the paparazzi?”

That was a fortunate by-product of being in South Texas. So far, the paparazzi didn’t know she was here. With any luck, they’d concentrate on more interesting people and not even look. Although she was modest about how interesting she was to the public, Melanie was realistic enough to know that, thanks to Roberto’s book, her being here to get artificially inseminated was newsworthy to the tabloids.

“Actually, Linda,” she said in a confidential tone, “I’m here for a medical procedure, but I don’t really want people to know I’m here, if I can avoid it.”

Linda made the sign of locking her lips and throwing away the key. “They won’t hear it from me. In fact, I’ll squelch the rumors if I can.”

Melanie smiled. “Thanks. Now, since I am working here for the moment, what can I do for you?”

“I need to leave Dan here for a couple of hours this morning.” Again she shifted her grip on the squirming toddler. “My mother normally takes him but she has a dental appointment. Em knows I have to spring this on her every once in a while, but usually I’m able to give her at least a little warning.”

“No problem,” Melanie said, hoping she was right and that it wasn’t going to be a problem for Em. “You just leave little Dan with me and I’ll see to it that he gets the very best care.”

“Thanks.” Linda shuffled the warm bundle to Melanie’s arms without hesitation. “My mom will be here by noon. Em knows her.” She glanced at her watch again and made a face. “Gotta run. It was nice meeting you, and don’t worry, mum’s the word!”

She rushed off, leaving Melanie standing there with the toddler in her arms, staring at her. He didn’t seem afraid, merely curious. His little face, just a few inches from hers, was so cute she nearly laughed.

“Hi there,” she said to him.

He blinked his large blue eyes, studying her silently.

“You want to play?” she asked.

He still didn’t answer. She wondered if he understood her.

“How about if we read a book?”

At this, his eyes lit up and he smiled. “Book,” he repeated, enunciating the k. “Book.”

Melanie felt nothing short of triumphant. “Yes, book!” They were communicating. It was a great feeling. “Let’s find a book.”

She carried him over to a shelf of picture books and leaned over to pick one. “Oh, Goodnight Moon,” she said, in a tone of reverence. She took the familiar favorite off the shelf and looked at the picture on the front. She hadn’t seen it in at least twenty years and probably longer, but she knew every tiny detail right down to the number of stars out the window.

One of the clearest memories she had of her mother was of her reading Goodnight Moon to her when she was small. “And goodnight to the old lady whispering ‘hush’…”

She carried the book and the child to a large comfortable rocking chair and sat down to read. The boy settled in against her, his blond head warm against her chest.

Melanie smiled down at the top of his head, then opened the book. “‘In the great green room,”’ she started, then stopped for a moment, trying to swallow the lump in her throat.

The boy turned in her lap and touched her chin.

She reached up and twined the little fingers in hers. “‘There was a telephone and a red balloon and a picture of the cow jumping over the moon.”’