Читать книгу Vital Signs - Bobby Hutchinson - Страница 10

FROM THE NURSES’ STATION Hailey watched them go down the corridor, Zedyck’s arm looped around the woman’s shoulders.

They could have posed for a magazine ad, she mused. They made a striking couple, both tall, both blessed with an abundance of physical beauty.

Nicole was a stunner, but based on one short meeting, she also seemed to be a truly nice person, lacking the self-centered attitude that sometimes went with such good looks.

Hailey’s mind naturally turned to her older sister, Laura. Laura was drop-dead gorgeous, too, but in Hailey’s opinion, Laura was about as self-centered as it was possible to get. She’d carved out a perfect life, by her standards, and wasn’t the least bit interested in other people’s choices. She’d married Frank, a creep with the same sort of good looks she possessed, produced two perfect kids and decorated a house in the suburbs with a lot of help from Martha Stewart’s magazines.

Hailey wouldn’t know Martha Stewart if the woman had a stroke in her living room, which was probable if she ever laid eyes on it.

How different could two sisters be?

And it was interesting how beautiful women gravitated to men whose looks complemented their own.

Roy Zedyck was as dark as Nicole was fair, and in spite of his mental lapses, he was good to look at, if your taste ran to crooked noses and grass-green eyes and jawlines out of an old western. Good hair, too. She liked it wavy and covering a guy’s shirt collar, the way his did.

For the remaining two hours of her shift, Hailey worked steadily, checking on David often, changing babies and feeding them, telling wild stories and singing nonsense songs as she slowly got her older patients into their pajamas. She ensured that everyone’s meds were administered and did her best to make the kids laugh whenever she could. Even the sickest of them rewarded her with tiny smiles, and to her those smiles were precious gifts.

Hailey always took her time with the kids, even though she knew her supervisor, Margaret Cross, repeatedly documented her for spending too much time with the patients and not enough getting the paperwork done before the next shift arrived.

Margaret was a nurse of the old school who made a point of coming to work in a white dress uniform, white stockings and her nursing cap, a regalia that had the other nurses calling her TGONP behind her back—the ghost of nurses past.

It was obvious Margaret hated her, and Hailey pretended she didn’t give a flying fig. The head nurse couldn’t get her fired, no matter how much she disapproved. That was the beauty of knowing you were excellent at your job. Oh, yeah, and a good union helped, too.

The thing was, there was no way you could rush little kids, nor should you. It was hard enough for them, trapped in here, feeling sick, most of them horribly lonely for their parents. They needed to have some control over their environment, Hailey felt, and if it came in the guise of slowing down the system, so be it. Margaret could have been a general in the armed forces, she believed so strongly in discipline and rules.

When at last the reports had been made to the new shift and Hailey was done for the day, she took off the rabbit ears and tail and rescued her pet, Skippy, from the staff lounge, where he’d been banished after Margaret found him in the playroom.

Hailey was carrying his cage on her way to the elevator when she changed her mind, stowed Skippy back in a corner of the staff lounge and detoured to David’s room.

There was another child in the room with David now, but he was asleep. David was wide awake, lying silent in his crib, his stuffed dog held close to his body, his eyes big and scared when he looked up at her. Earlier she’d changed and bathed him, and held him for as long as she could possibly manage it. His electrolytes were still way below normal, which meant that he probably wasn’t feeling good at all. His sweet little face was somber, and the anxious, frightened look in his blue eyes tugged at her heartstrings.

“Hey, dumpling, you’re wide awake.” She grinned at him and held out her arms, but he just looked up at her with a solemn, wary expression.

“Just you wait, Davie. You’re gonna break down and smile at me yet,” she teased in a whisper, so as not to wake his roommate.

David smelled clean and fresh, and there was a sweet, elusive baby odor to his skin. She leaned down and pressed her nose against his neck and blew a gentle bubble. He lifted a tentative hand and touched her hair, his eyes wide.

“Some mad mess that mop is, huh, Davie? People keep suggesting I get it styled, but I’m a sucker for the natural look. And you little guys like it. You can get your hands in and really yank. Hey, partner, wanna go for a walk?”

She picked him up. His body stiffened with alarm, but he didn’t cry. He pointed at his dog, and she tucked it in his arms. Hauling the IV pole, she carried him on her hip down the corridor to an empty room where there was a rocking chair. Hailey sank into it, and after a while she felt David relax against her.

For forty minutes she rocked and sang him snippets from James Taylor and Janis Joplin. He fell asleep, and because his warm, soft little body comforted her, she went on rocking and singing.

At last one of the other nurses stuck her head in and smiled.

“Hailey, you still here? I thought you’d be long gone by now. You’ve gotta get a life, girl.”

“Hi, Karen. I needed a hug, so I kidnapped David.”

“He’s a real sweetheart. I heard about him from one of the ER docs.”

“He’s an angel.”

Karen came in and studied David, sleeping soundly against Hailey’s chest. “You’re right, he is an angel. But then, you say that about all of them. No word on his mom yet?”

Hailey shook her head. “His new social worker was by earlier. The other one’s dad died, so she’s gone to his funeral. This guy’s name is Roy Zedyck.”

“Oh, yeah, everybody’s heard of him. Big tall guy, great buns. Wow, he’s a celebrity. He was the one who was in the news a while back, the inquiry into that little boy who got sent back to his birth mother and ended up dead?”

Hailey shuddered. “I don’t watch stuff like that, or read about it, either. What we get in here is quite enough for me.”

“Everybody says Robertson’s testimony was the reason they set up that independent commission, so there’ll be someone else for kids to turn to besides the ministry. Hopefully decisions will be made that are truly in the child’s best interest, and not just some arbitrary ruling handed down by one judge.”

“Sounds like a good idea.”

“I can’t believe you haven’t heard about it—it was all over the news. Becky’s gonna be green. She drools when Zedyck’s name is mentioned. But then, Becky drools a lot. I swear she’s got an extra few ounces of estrogen going for her.”

Hailey laughed. “She’s got a good eye for male beefcake, and in this instance she’s dead right. You’d have to be neutered not to notice how sexy Zedyck is.”

And he must have more gray matter than she thought, if he’d impressed the court that way.

“Tell Becky to give it up. He’s got a knockout for a lady, gorgeous and caring, really friendly, name of Nicole. She was with him. They were all duded up for a party or something.”

“Lucky them.” Karen wrinkled her nose. “How come some people get the full-meal deal and the rest of us have to make do with the forty-nine-cent special?” Hailey knew that Karen was going through a messy and painful divorce.

“It has to do with astrology.” Hailey got to her feet, careful not to disturb David. “I better get home. I left my rabbit in the staff lounge. If I don’t get him out of there, somebody’ll rat to Margaret and I’ll be getting a rabbit reprimand on my file.”

Karen giggled. The ongoing conflict between Hailey and Margaret Cross was constant entertainment for the rest of the pediatric nursing staff. And they were right to laugh. If you didn’t laugh about Margaret and her tantrums, you’d be tempted to smother her in the linen closet.

“I’ll bring the IV,” Karen offered. “You just carry him.”

They paraded down the corridor and Hailey settled David into his crib. She bent and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Night, little Davie. Sleep well. The angels will watch over you and keep you safe.” She told all her little patients the same thing when she took leave of them.

When they were out in the hall again, Karen gave Hailey a warm smile and a hug. “You need a dozen or so of your own. You’d make the best mom ever.”

Hailey’s smile felt strained. Kids of her own was the thing in life she most wanted. “I’ll settle for just one.”

“How’s the adoption process coming?” Most of her co-workers were aware that Hailey had recently applied for single-parent adoption.

“Slow.” Hailey grimaced. “They really check you out on all fronts. I guess it’s a good thing, but it kind of wears you down after a while.”

Karen nodded. “I can imagine.” She heaved a sigh. “I’m glad now that Jim and I didn’t have any kids. It would make this whole divorce thing that much harder, and God knows it’s tough enough as it is. But I’m getting older, and I guess every woman wants kids sooner or later.”

“For me, I hope it’s sooner,” Hailey said. “I’m gonna be thirty in another month. That’s old compared with when people used to have kids. My mom had my sister when she was twenty-four and me two years later.”

“People generally had kids earlier then. Now it takes time to be able to afford them, and with birth control we have the option of waiting.”

“Some of us, I guess. David’s mother’s only seventeen. One of the ER nurses heard it from a cop.”

Karen shook her head and clucked her tongue. “Sometimes there’s a good argument for abortion.”

“Or adoption.”

One of the monitors began to beep.

“Gotta go. Take care and enjoy what’s left of your evening.” Karen waved a quick goodbye as she hurried off.

Hailey made her way out to the car park and climbed into her battered red half-ton. She’d bought it a year ago, a few months after she purchased her house, trading in her cherished old Grand Prix for it when she realized how many deliveries she’d paid for from Home Depot and how many times she’d wished she could get rid of her own building debris.

The good news was that it took her and the half-ton only twenty minutes to get from St. Joe’s to her street. The bad news was that the two-story blue-and-white octogenarian she’d bought had turned out to be a money pit. She was slowly and for the most part single-handedly repairing and remodeling, but it was a painfully time-consuming, expensive process. The front lawn was full of moss, the back devoid of grass because of two tall cedars, a stand of overgrown lilacs and an immense fir tree that prevented sunlight from getting through. The trees did give the property privacy, though, and she’d pay more attention to the yard when she got the inside livable.

Her master plan was to finish the basement first and rent it out so she had additional income, and then turn one of the four upstairs bedrooms, the tiny one next to her own, into a nursery.

She parked on the street. None of the houses had garages. Gazing for a moment at her house, she felt the same thrill she always did when she arrived home. This funny old battered senior citizen of a house was really hers. She’d had to scrimp and save and practically offer the bank her soul to get it, but she wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Carrying Skippy’s cage, she made her way around to the back, where she’d used chicken wire to construct a pen for the rabbit. After she’d turned him loose and made sure he had food and water, she climbed the rickety wooden back stairs—gotta do something about those stairs—unlocked the door and went inside.

The phone on the kitchen counter was ringing. A glance at her watch showed that it was ten-forty-five. She picked up the receiver.

“Hailey?” Her mother’s voice made her shut her eyes and wish she’d let the machine take the call. “Where’ve you been? I called twice before. I thought your shift was over at seven.”

“Hi, Mom.” Hailey wished, not for the first time, that she’d gotten call display. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk to her mother; it was just that she’d rather choose the times it happened, like Christmas and Easter.

“How you doing, Mom?” Hailey ignored the questions, knowing that Jean really didn’t expect an answer. “How come you’re calling this late?”

“It’s Laura. She was over yesterday, and something’s not right with her.”

Hailey rolled her eyes heavenward. As far as she knew, her sister’s problems were primarily whether or not to fire the gardener, change the living-room sofa, or enroll Hailey’s niece and nephew in yet another extracurricular activity. Poor little mites. At seven and nine their lives were already as regimented as Margaret would like the peds ward to be.

“Have you talked to her recently, Hailey?”

“Not for a couple of weeks.” That was about par for her and Laura. The last time Hailey had called, it was on impulse one Saturday morning. She’d wanted to take Christopher and Samantha to the Greek food fair. Of course it hadn’t been possible; they’d had karate and swimming lessons. Sometimes she suspected Laura of deliberately keeping the kids busy so they wouldn’t be overexposed to their whacko aunt. Christopher had once told her that’s how his father referred to Hailey. Chris, bless his heart, had wanted to know if “whacko” had something to do with boxing.

“Well, I wish you’d give her a call—see if she’ll open up to you. There’s something wrong with her and I can’t put my finger on it.”

Open up? What planet did Jean live on? Laura hadn’t opened up to Hailey since she’d gotten her first period at the age of twelve, when Laura had been kind enough to explain sex and the connection to babies. Hailey had already known, but she didn’t let on.

Her stomach rumbled, and she remembered she hadn’t eaten since lunch, and then it had been a tuna sandwich gulped on the run.

“Look, Mom, can I call you in the morning? I’ve just come home and I need to make some dinner. I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving. God knows where you put it, although you could stand to gain a few pounds. In the right places, of course. You will give Laura a call, won’t you?” Jean was nothing if not persistent. And consistent. She’d been on about Hailey’s weight, or lack of it, for years, as if the proper diet would pump up her boobs to a 36C and shorten her nose.

A wave of irritation washed over Hailey. She could probably tell her mother she was dying, and Jean would wonder what effect it was going to have on Laura. It had always been Laura, but then, in all fairness, Laura was the daughter who looked like Jean, whose values coincided with her own. They actually had serious discussions about things like leg waxing and facials and anti-aging cream.

Hailey wondered sometimes if the balance of attention would have been more even if her father had lived, but Ed Bergstrom had thoughtlessly died of a heart attack when she was eleven, leaving her alone with an alien species.

“I’m worried, Hailey. Do you think maybe she’s sick or something and just doesn’t want to tell us?”

“She’s fine, Mom.” Hailey heaved an exasperated sigh. “She’d tell you if anything was wrong with her.”

But Hailey wasn’t fine. She was starving, and her mother wasn’t giving up. God, anything for a little peace and some food.

“Look, Mom, I’ll call her. Not tonight, but soon. And yes, I’ll try to get her to talk to me about what’s bothering her.”

She hung up and muttered in a sarcastic tone, “And how are you, Hailey? What’s going on in your life? Any news about that adoption thing yet?”

The truth was, not much new was going on in her life, so maybe it was a good thing Jean didn’t care enough to ask.

She didn’t really believe that, Hailey admitted as she put water on to boil for pasta and found some fresh garlic and the jar of sun-dried tomatoes in the fridge, but it was some comfort.

It was better not to have Jean prying into her life, she told herself as she pulled wilted spinach out of the vegetable bin and tore it up for salad. What if she got on that kick again about finding Hailey a nice guy and getting her married off? Jean had driven her nuts about it there for a while two or three years ago. She’d tried to line Hailey up with the least likely candidates: loser sons of the people who worked with Jean in the doctor’s office; patients, for God’s sake; even a dentist Jean had gone to for a root canal. The dentist hadn’t been bad in bed, but after a while Hailey got sick of hearing about molars and incisors and bicuspids, especially right after sex.

Thankfully Jean had given up.

Not that Hailey had done any better on her own. Her last date had been…when? She calculated in her head. It would be about six months ago now, and even at the time, she knew Norman Patino wasn’t anybody’s idea of an eligible bachelor. But he was male and alive and breathing, and he’d shown some interest in her.

But then she’d gotten to know him better. Or worse. It was one thing for a guy to be overweight and balding—that she could overlook. After all, she was no beauty queen herself. But for him to also be arrogant, self-centered and downright cheap was too much even for somebody who was desperate.

And she had been desperate when she dated Norman, Hailey thought as she assembled her meal and sat down at the kitchen table to eat it. She’d been going through a spell when she wanted to get married and have a family so badly she was willing to compromise in all sorts of ways. But even she had limits. Norman bored her cross-eyed and expected her to pay for dinner once too often, and she’d finally realized she was worth more than the compromises she’d been making. It had been satisfying to dump him, and both maddening and sad to hear him blame the failure of their relationship totally on her. He’d accused her of being fussy, which would have been funny if it wasn’t so damned sad.

The pasta was good, and she ate her way through a heaping bowlful and then a second. After she put the dishes in the sink, she checked her telephone messages. There was only one, and it made her smile with delight. It was from her paternal grandmother, Ingrid Bergstrom.