She drifted in and out of consciousness as she heard the midwife dial the phone and say, “He came early. It’s a boy.” Justine Russell had just given Dennis Boone his son.
Precious’s strident voice could be heard through the receiver when she said, “Bring him to the city office. I will meet you there.”
“I will as soon as I finish here,” Miss Cynthia said.
“Leave her!” Precious screamed. “I expect to meet you at the office by the time I get there, or you can forget about being paid.”
Miss Cynthia’s stern expression softened when she looked at Justine lying on the blood-stained rubber sheet. She’d cut the umbilical cord, but hadn’t extracted the afterbirth, becauseit would take precious time away from hailing a taxi to take her to Dr. Raitt’s medical office several blocks from Yankee Stadium. Wrapping the baby in several blankets, she repacked her bag, left the spare key on the bedside table, and rushed out of the apartment with the newborn baby boy.
Justine heard the door to the apartment slam behind the midwife, and minutes later, the pain returned. She couldn’t understand why she was still in labor when she’d just given birth. Sucking in a breath, she let it out at the same time she pushed again. A weak cry echoed in the room; a chill swept over her once she realized she’d just given birth to another baby. She’d gone into labor a month early because she’d been carrying twins.
Rising up on an elbow, she stared at the tiny baby still attached to an umbilical cord. It was another boy. Sitting up slowly, she bent over and picked up the crying, red-faced infant. Then she began to cry and couldn’t stop. With shaking hands, her maternal instincts took over as she rested the baby on her chest, smiling through her tears when his little mouth found her breast and began sucking.
Justine knew she needed medical attention. She managed to reach for the telephone and dialed Pamela’s number. When she heard her neighbor’s voice, she told her the baby had come early, and she needed her to call an ambulance to take her to a hospital.
“Hang up, Justine. I’m going to call the operator and have her call for an ambulance, then I’ll be right over.” The building superintendent was given keys to every apartment in the building in the event of an emergency or when any tenant wasn’t on the premises.
Justine watched her baby suckle before Pamela rushed in and sat with her until the ambulance arrived. “Your son is beautiful,” she crooned. “Have you decided what you’re going to name him?”
That was a question Justine hadn’t asked herself, becausenaming the baby had been taken out of her hands the instant she’d given birth, and once the midwife handed it over to Precious Boone. Precious would never know that Justine Russell had carried not one, but two of her husband’s sons, and that presented a dilemma for Justine. She had to move out of the apartment and leave no trace as to where she was going. She’d given up one baby, and she had no intention of giving up another.
“I’m going to name him after my husband and my father. He’s going to be Kenneth Douglas Russell.” Her son’s middle name would be her birth father’s last name. At least that wouldn’t be a lie.
Precious got out of bed for the first time in days after hanging up with the midwife, got dressed, and then called the caretaker to drive her to her doctor’s New York City office. The injections Dr. Raitt had given her to mimic pregnancy had worked. She’d put on weight, and both her breasts and abdomen were swollen. The drug had also triggered headaches that came without warning. They were debilitating, and she was forced to stay in bed in a darkened room as she waited for the pain to subside.
Her moods were so erratic that even Lillian threatened to stay away until her behavior changed; meanwhile, her mother commiserated with Dennis, who’d moved into another bedroom, telling him her daughter’s emotional well-being was at risk if she were to become pregnant again. That’s when Lillian Crawford recommended Precious undergo a procedure that would result in sterilization following the delivery.
Dennis had balked, declaring he’d wanted more than one child, but Lillian was able to convince him, saying what good would his children be if their mother was committed to a mental hospital? Lillian went on to describe stories of new mothers either hurting themselves or their children because of hormonal changes after giving birth. She told her son-in-lawthat as early as 700 BC, Hippocrates described women having emotional difficulties after giving birth. Medical professionals called it thebaby blues, and if he truly loved his wife, he would either sign for her to have the procedure or make certain to use a condom whenever they had sexual intercourse.
Then, she subtly intimated that if he lost his wife, then his social status would also suffer, and the doors that were now open to him would abruptly close, leaving him on the outside looking in. The realization he would be ostracized from a group of people he worshipped from afar from the time he’d been old enough to recognize well-to-do couples dressed to the nines, riding in luxury cars and going to wonderful parties, was enough for him to agree with his mother-in-law. After Precious delivered their baby, he would agree to sign off on the tubal ligation procedure to ensure it would be her first and last pregnancy.
Precious arrived at the doctor’s New York City office, then told the caretaker to go back home, and if she needed a ride, then she would call a taxi to take her back to Mount Vernon. He’d given her a puzzled look, then did as he’d been ordered.
A nurse escorted her into an exam room, where Dr. Raitt was weighing and examining her son. “How is he?”
Dr. Raitt, wearing a surgical mask, glanced over his shoulder. “He’s a little small, but everything else looks good. I’ve arranged for you and the baby to check into a private hospital in Pelham. I will recommend you stay until the baby gains enough weight before he can be discharged. Meanwhile, I’m going to give you a shot that will reverse any signs of your pregnancy. It will take a few months before you’ll begin to lose most of the weight. However, I caution you against breastfeeding, because the drug has seeped into your milk glands. The baby will have to be bottle-fed formula in the hospital and after you take him home.”
Precious nodded. “What about the tubal ligation?”
“It had been scheduled for next month, but now that you’ve had the baby, I will contact the surgical department to reschedule it for you to undergo the procedure as soon as possible while you’re recuperating from giving birth. I’m going to have someone on my staff transport you and the baby to the hospital for admittance. I’ve already called ahead to let them know I delivered the baby here in my office because you’d gone into early labor. I’ll go there later this afternoon to fill out the necessary paperwork documenting the baby’s birth. I know you told me that you plan to name the baby Michael Dennis Boone if it is a boy.”
Precious nodded again. “Yes. That’s what Dennis and I decided if I was going to have a boy.” She’d begun to think of the child as hers and her husband’s the moment it was confirmed that he was going to be a father. The name Justine Russell was never spoken again once she was banished from her home.
Dr. Raitt finished examining the baby and then called a nurse to come in and dress the infant. Meanwhile, he prepared an antidote to the experimental drug he’d given Precious. Once the baby was dressed and swaddled in a lightweight blanket, Precious carried her son outside, where a driver waited next to the automobile that would transport her to the hospital. She couldn’t believe her son was the spitting image of his father.
Sitting in the rear of the car, cradling her son to her breasts, Precious couldn’t stop smiling. Her mother’s plan had worked flawlessly. Lillian Crawford was right. Once she was reunited with her friends, she would pay careful attention during their conversations rather than attempting to compete with them when it came to talking about her husband’s accomplishments. It was something she’d found herself doing much too often, because she knew their husbands had only accepted Dennis because he’d married her.
That would all change now that she’d given Dennis anheir. Their son would reap all of the benefits that he was entitled to because of his mother’s birthright. Her son was not only fortunate, but he was also blessed, because the timing of his birth had come when Dennis was out of town, and when she would see the onset of her menses in a couple of days.
It was perfect.
Everything in her life was perfect.
CHAPTER7
It was two days after Justine had been admitted to Harlem Hospital that she received her second visitor; the first had been a social worker. Pamela walked into the maternity ward grinning from ear to ear. Justine had been told she’d lost a lot of blood, her son was underweight, and she would remain in the hospital until she was strong enough to be discharged. The attending doctor said there was a possibility that if the baby gained enough weight, they could go home together.
Justine couldn’t stop the tears filling her eyes now that her entire world had been turned upside down—because she had given birth to a baby, one she was responsible for taking care of on her own, and because there hadn’t been any indication that she’d been carrying twins. Even the midwife had missed the signs there could’ve been not one, but two heartbeats.
