“You’ve done a fine job, Mellie, and I really appreciate it. I haven’t had much energy this past month. If it hadn’t been for you, the little guy would be sleeping in a very ugly room.” She grinned. “Now why don’t you and Coren come have some Christmas cookies, hot from the oven.”
“Race you,” Melanie said.
Like a shot, the two girls darted from the room and down the stairs.
“Surprise!”
Melanie stared at the small circle of her friends in Justine’s family room. Bewildered, she asked, “What’s going on? It’s not my birthday or anything.”
“We’re having a big-sister shower for you,” Coren explained, looking pleased. “We bought presents and everything.”
“I made the cake,” Mindy called out.
“And I bought the ice cream,” Lorna added.
“You’re kidding! You’re giving me a party?”
“Yep.” Justine gestured at the others. “Some of us are experts on being a big sister. I thought we should show you the ropes.”
They all laughed. Melanie’s eyes felt moist as she looked at the beaming faces of her closest friends. “You guys are too much. This is really nice of you.”
“That’s us,” Coren said. “Nice, nice, nice. Now sit down and start opening your presents!”
Melanie began with a large box tagged BIG SISTER SURVIVAL KIT. Inside she found hairbrushes. “Because she’ll always be borrowing yours,” Coren explained. “Trust me on this.”
Next, Melanie unwrapped a spray bottle of insect repellent. “Just in case the kid becomes a pest like my brother,” Mindy joked.
Digging deeper, Melanie found a sign that read, KEEP OUT. TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT and another that read, SIBLING RIVALRY—OPPOSITES ATTACK. Then she unwrapped a bag of candy—for bribing kid brothers and sisters into getting lost. At the bottom of the box was a scrapbook with her friends’ pictures in it, free coupons to redeem for baby-sitting, and spaces for filling out statistics on her soon-to-be sibling.
“Look at this,” Justine said. She unfolded a large poster of a family tree. “You fill in all the blanks with the names of your relatives. It’s kind of fun. I did one in health class last year and thought you might like to do one, too.”
Coren leaned toward her. “You might not want to write in Freddy Krueger’s name. Sometimes it’s okay not to include everybody in the family.”
Melanie made a face at the joke. Then, shoving aside the torn wrapping paper, she said, “This is too sweet. Thanks. Really. It means so much to me.”
“Can you call us when your mom goes into labor?” Mindy asked. “Maybe we could all come to the hospital and wait with you.”
“Mom’s going to a special birthing room, and a midwife is going to help her deliver the baby. Dad’s coaching her,” Melanie explained. “I won’t see the actual birth, but there’s a big waiting room. I guess you all could come down and wait with me.”
“What if it’s born in the middle of the night?” Anna asked.
“We’re all out of school. What would it matter?” Coren said. “Call me anytime, day or night.”
“Me too,” Justine said. “I’ll pick everyone up.” She was the oldest of the group and already had her driver’s license.
“It could be fun,” Melanie said. “Like a sleepover.”
“I’ll bring cookies,” Mindy said.
“Sodas,” Lorna volunteered.
“Jigsaw puzzles and board games,” Faith said. “My aunt took twelve hours to have her baby.”
“My mom told me I came in three hours,” Melanie said. “Maybe this baby will be in a hurry to get born, too.”
The group applauded.
Melanie raised her can of soda. “A toast. To us. To my mom and dad. To a Christmas baby and a short labor.”
The group of friends raised their soda cans high and clinked them together. Melanie couldn’t have been happier. This was going to be the best Christmas of her life.
Three
“Mellie. Wake up. It’s time.”
Melanie heard her father’s voice as if from far away. She struggled through layers of sleep, forced her eyes open, and saw him in the doorway of her bedroom, lit from behind by the light in the hall. She bolted upright. “Time for what? What time is it?”
“It’s one in the morning. We’re headed to the hospital. Your mom’s in labor.”
“I’m up,” she said. Melanie scrambled out of bed. She reached for socks, jeans, sweater, and jacket, her heart pounding in expectation. “Where’s Mom?”
“She’s downstairs waiting while I warm up the car,” her father answered as he hurried toward the stairs.
Melanie grabbed the backpack she had filled days before with makeup, a toothbrush, a small pillow, phone numbers, snack food, and books, and clambered downstairs.
She found her mother sitting in the living room, gazing at the Christmas tree ablaze with lights. “Well, I didn’t make it to Christmas Day. Are you disappointed?”
“No way.” Melanie knelt beside her mother’s chair. “This is great.” She tried to remember the date.
“The twentieth,” her mother said, as if reading her mind.
“So we’ll be home in time for Christmas. We’ll open all our presents and eat a big turkey dinner. And the baby will be tucked in the new nursery. It’ll be super.” Just the day before, Melanie had placed a mound of packages for the baby beneath the tree. On every tag she’d written, FOR BABY MORTIMER/MORTICIA, FROM SANTA. “This way, I can change the tags to the baby’s real name,” she added brightly.
Her mother stiffened and took several deep breaths.
“Are you okay? Does it hurt?” Melanie wished her father would hurry.
“It’s just labor. No pain, no gain.” She took Melanie’s hand and placed it on her round belly.
“It feels like a rock.”
“The muscles are doing their job. They have to force the baby down and out.”
“It’s got to hurt.”
Her mother laughed. “It’s normal, Mellie. And it’s only just started. It could be a long night.”
“I have stuff to do.” Melanie patted her backpack. “Some of my friends want to come and wait with me. We’ll have a little party.”
“Don’t get too noisy. I may not be the only woman in labor tonight.”
“You’ll be the most important one, though,” Melanie declared.
Just then, her father came in from the garage. “Your chariot’s warm and ready to roll, Cinderella.” He helped his wife to her feet. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
“Too late to back out now,” Connie joked.
He kissed her forehead and led her toward the car. “Unplug the tree lights, Mellie.”
Melanie hurried, pausing only long enough to glance up at the star atop the tree. “Here we go,” she whispered. “Keep on shining.”
As they drove to the hospital, Melanie timed her mother’s contractions. When they arrived, her mother was placed in a wheelchair and rolled into a birthing room. Melanie had come with her parents during their orientation tour, so she knew the general layout of the facility. She’d also met the midwife, Vera, who would do the delivery.
Her mother’s room contained a hospital bed, a sofa, a TV, a couple of chairs, a private bathroom, and a window that looked out onto the night sky. Vera helped Melanie’s mom into bed and started an IV solution. “For hydration,” she explained, then added, “I need to do an exam to see how far along you are, Connie.” She asked Melanie and her dad to leave for a few minutes.
Outside in the hall, it was eerily quiet. Lights were dim, and Melanie felt as if they were the only two people awake in the world.
“Excited?” her dad asked.
“Oh, Daddy. It’s so wonderful. How about you?”
He put his arm around her shoulder. “I never thought I’d be a new father again. I figured I’d be standing around with your husband, waiting for your baby to be born instead of mine.”
“Does this
mean I can start dating?”
He laughed. “Not yet. You’re still my little girl.”
Melanie poked him in the side. “Your big girl now. Do you care whether it’s a boy or a girl?” Her mother had told her it didn’t matter.
“In my opinion, we’ve done ‘girl’ pretty well already. You’ll be a hard act to follow. But, no, I don’t care.”
She smiled. Sometimes her dad made her feel wonderful. “Did Mom tell you that we want to name her Jennifer Lorraine if it’s a girl?”
“She did. And I think my mother would be proud to have a namesake.”
“And if it’s a boy, we’ve picked Matthew Tyler … after Mom’s maiden name.”
“I approve of both choices.”
Vera opened the door. “You can go in now. She’s got a ways to go, but everything is looking good.”
In the room, Melanie’s mother was casually flipping through TV channels. “Not much on in the middle of the night,” she said, clicking off the remote.
“Aren’t you hurting?” Melanie asked, thinking that her mother looked pretty bored.
“It comes and goes,” her mother said. “The labor pains are about seven minutes apart now.” She tensed. “Here comes one now, Frank.”
Melanie’s father took his wife’s hand and spoke to her encouragingly while she took short, panting breaths as she’d been taught in Lamaze class. When the contraction passed, she sank into the pillow.
Seeing her mother in pain was difficult for Melanie, so she excused herself and went down the hall to an empty waiting room. From there she called Justine, staked a claim on a couple of tables, and sat down to wait. Within an hour, Justine arrived with several friends.
“This is so cool,” Coren said. Faith and Mindy plopped on nearby sofas with pillows they’d brought, while Justine laid out a tray of cookies and sodas.
Melanie returned to her mother’s room frequently to check on her progress, then reported back to the group. By four in the morning, everyone but she and Coren had fallen asleep. They played double solitaire and watched the clock.
“How’s it going?” Coren asked the moment Melanie returned from her latest tour down the hall.
“They gave Mom some pain medication, so she’s resting between contractions. The midwife said it won’t be long now.”
“Too bad you have to miss the big moment.”
“I tried to talk Mom and Dad into letting me watch, but they said no. I’m going to wait out in the hall, though, with my ear to the door. Dad’s promised to yell out ‘girl’ or ‘boy’ the second the baby’s born.”
“Then can you see it?”
“Once the baby’s cleaned up and Mom’s taken care of, I can go inside.” Melanie looked up at the clock. “This is taking forever.”
Suddenly her father hurried into the room. He was wearing a green paper gown and looked excited. “Come on, Mellie. The baby’s almost here.”
She jumped up and ran after him, then skidded to a stop outside the door. He’d left it open just enough for her to hear Vera barking orders to a nurse and telling Melanie’s father where to stand. Coren and the other girls straggled sleepily down the hall and clustered around the door with Melanie.
Melanie heard Vera say, “This is it, Connie. Push hard. I can see the top of the baby’s head.”
Melanie held her breath. Next she heard a wail and the midwife announcing, “It’s a girl!”
Tears of joy filled Melanie’s eyes. A sister. She had a sister. Her friends gave out muffled squeals and hugged her.
Then she heard her father say, “Where are you going? Why are you taking her away? I thought we could hold her.”
Her mother called, “Frank? What’s happening? I want to see our baby.”
The midwife’s voice replied, “I’m just taking her to the doctor so she can have a quick look at her. I’ll be right back. Calm down. Don’t worry.”
Melanie’s heart froze. Something was wrong with her brand-new baby sister.
Four
Melanie pushed open the door and ran into the room. “Mom, Dad … what’s happening?”
“We don’t know.” Her father stroked her mother’s forehead. She was crying and clinging to his hand.
A nurse injected some medication into her IV line with a syringe. “This will help you rest,” she said.
“I don’t want to rest. I want my baby,” Melanie’s mother wailed, but in moments, she was out.
Melanie saw bloody sheets and felt woozy. Her father gently slipped his arm around her. The nurse turned to Melanie’s father. “I have to attend to your wife right now. Please step out into the hall.”
“I have questions.” His voice sounded unsteady.
“In a minute,” the nurse said firmly. “Your wife comes first.”
Melanie and her dad went into the corridor, where her friends stood huddled together. “What’s wrong?” Coren asked.
“We don’t know anything. They took the baby away.”
“Please, girls, you’d better go on home,” her father told the group. “Mellie will call you as soon as she can, as soon as we know something more.”
Quietly they slipped away, looking over their shoulders, their eyes wide, their gazes anxious.
When the nurse allowed Melanie and her dad back into the room, Melanie’s mother was dressed in a clean gown and sleeping on fresh bed linen. Melanie’s father took the nurse’s elbow and said, “For the love of heaven, tell me what’s going on!”
“Mr. Barton, don’t be alarmed—”
“Are you serious? Of course I’m alarmed. Everything goes fine, the baby is born, then the midwife snatches her away saying the doctor has to see her. I want to talk to someone, and I mean right now!”
“I’ll get the doctor,” the nurse said, leaving the room.
Melanie threw herself into her father’s arms. “Oh, Daddy. There’s something horrible going on with my sister, isn’t there?”
“I don’t know. I barely caught a glimpse of her. I’ll get to the bottom of this, honey, and when your mother wakes up, she’ll have her baby to hold.”
“Jennifer,” Melanie said in a small voice. “Remember … her name is Jennifer.”
“Yes,” he whispered. “My daughter Jennifer.”
“I’m calling in Dr. Singh for a consultation. He’ll run some tests and then we’ll know what we’re dealing with.” The woman who spoke to Melanie and her father in the cubicle-size room had introduced herself as Dr. Morrison, a pediatrician on call for the night.
“But something is wrong with the baby, isn’t it?” Melanie’s father leaned closer to the doctor, his face grim.
Beside him, Melanie sat stiffly, her hands clasped to keep them from trembling. She felt cold and numb.
“It seems so. Yes.” The doctor’s words hit Melanie like blows.
Her father sagged in his chair. “What do you suspect?”
“It’s best not to deal in speculation at this point.”
“What am I supposed to say to my wife when she wakes up?”
“She’s been given a sedative that will make her sleep for at least five or six hours. I suggest that you and your daughter go home, get some rest, and come back later in the day. By then, maybe we’ll have some answers.”
“I don’t want to go home,” Melanie blurted out.
The doctor looked at her kindly. “Please. It’s been a long night and you’re going to need your strength. Your mother’s sleeping and so is the baby. There’s nothing you can do here.”
“Where is Jennifer?” Melanie’s father asked.
“In the neonatal ICU.”
Melanie’s heart thudded as she realized the baby had been placed in the intensive care unit. “Can’t we even see her?”
“Come with me.” Dr. Morrison led them down the hall. She rounded a corner and stopped in front of a thick, plate-glass window. “The babies are in temperature-controlled incubators,” she explained.
Melanie stared into a dimly lit, high-tech room where clea
r plastic incubators held the tiniest of babies. All were hooked to blinking monitors with wires and tubes that hung from their bodies like puppet strings attached to motionless dolls. They wore only paper diapers and little knitted caps. “Why are they all wearing hats?” Melanie asked.
“Babies lose a lot of body heat through their heads, so we keep their heads covered to retain warmth. Some of them have no body fat, and they need the extra insulation,” Dr. Morrison explained.
Two nurses worked in the unit. Melanie watched as one nurse checked monitors and the other sat in a rocking chair, feeding a baby from a bottle. “What’s wrong with them?”
“Most are preemies—born before their time. One was born with a serious heart defect, and another with Down Syndrome.”
“Where’s Jennifer?” Melanie’s gaze swept the room.
“Over there, in the incubator near the far wall.”
Melanie craned her neck. She could barely make out a mound wrapped in a baby blanket with a knitted hat on its head. “Can’t we see her closer up?”
“Later,” Dr. Morrison said. “Please.”
Melanie’s father cleared his throat. “All right, we’ll go home now, but we’ll be back after we get a little sleep. And tell this Dr. Singh I’ll want some answers.”
As Melanie and her father turned a corner, they saw another plate-glass window. Like a moth to a flame, Melanie was drawn over, and she looked inside. This room was brightly lit and the babies lay in rows of incubators. All these infants were tightly wrapped in blankets and also wore knitted caps. Some were crying; others lay fast asleep, oblivious to the noise. These were the normal babies, the healthy ones.
A lump the size of a fist stuck in Melanie’s throat. This was where Jennifer should be … not in that other room. Not in the room reserved for babies held together by tubes, wires, and technology.
“I’m going to look in on your mother,” her father said. His voice sounded thick and scratchy. “They’ve moved her to a private room.”
“I’ll wait here,” Melanie said.
“Maybe you shouldn’t—”