“I hope he feels proud,” Amelia said. She paused. “You know, we don’t give him enough credit, but Mason has taken a turn these past few years. He’s really growing up.”
“And it only took until his late thirties!” Olivia said, laughing.
Tilley smiled at Olivia. She knew how Mason had plagued her, broken her heart.
Tilley thought George and Greer were the ones who finally got Mason back on track. When Parker and Amelia came back to Cape Carolina and had them, Mason was besotted immediately. And, when that happened, he started making big strides to get his life back together, not the half-hearted attempts that had kept him stuck. He took a coaching job at Cape Carolina High, where he had real responsibility instead of “working” for his dad. He moved into the octagon house and started paying rent.
Maybe they were baby steps, but he seemed happy now. We all need a purpose. He seemed to have found one. Tilley blamed Olivia for letting Mason stay stuck, for catering to him instead of giving him a little tough love and a big dose of responsibility.
But, then again, who was she to talk? She had let her sister and brother-in-law take care of her for all these years. She had wallowed in her lost love—just like Mason had—fordecades. It occurred to Tilley, for maybe the first time since her beloved Robert died, that perhaps she needed a purpose too.
“Well, late is better than never,” Tilley chimed in.
Elizabeth nodded. “It certainly is.” She looked at Olivia, who seemed rather stricken.
Elizabeth, deftly switching gears, said, “Can you imagine the scandal of it? When the baby’s parents are found? It has to be high schoolers, doesn’t it?”
Amelia shook her head. “I just feel sorry for them. Can you imagine being so terrified of your own parents that having a baby in the woods and trashing it in the dumpster feels like a better option?”
“I barely survived childbirth in a hospital,” Olivia said. “With drugs. That poor child.”
Tilley could feel her head starting to swim, but she tried to stay here, with her sister, with her niece, with her friend. “Well, I just hope, when they are discovered, someone tries to help them, not hurt them.”
“I do imagine there are consequences for leaving a baby in a dumpster,” Elizabeth said. “And I for one think there should be.”
“Well, let’s not jump to conclusions,” Olivia said. “We don’t know the circumstances.”
Tilley got the feeling that that comment was for her benefit, though she couldn’t quite figure out why or how. Things were starting to feel far away. This night, this conversation, was something her mind was ready to leave, if not her body. Why didn’t she just get up and go to bed? Why was it always like this, the switch, the change into character? She wanted to stop it, but this had been her coping mechanism for so long. Sometimes she could stay in the here and now, feel the hard thing, if she really concentrated, put all her energy into it. But sometimes she simply could not. Like now.
“I just can’t imagine any mother, no matter her age, abandoning her baby,” Amelia said. “I know it happens, but I can’t wrap my mind around it. That love you feel when they are born is just so all-encompassing that—”
“Amelia, darling.” Tilley heard herself cut her niece off, but hervoice wasn’t her voice anymore. “I believe I’ll take my nighttime tea in my chambers now.” Tilley stood up, her skirt swishing. She was glad she was wearing it. Whoever she was now, in this moment, was happy she had her skirt to parade up the stairs in. No babies. No backstory. No sadness. Just now. Just Tilley. And her skirt. And her spot of tea that would make it all go away, that would make the pain stop.
DAISYSoulmate Theory
Hello, my darling Maisy,” I sang, picking up my favorite charge in the nursery. I held her close and smelled the top of her baby head. I had missed this little girl. Before she left, the nurse on the night shift had debriefed me on my patients’ vitals, medications, feedings, and changes that had occurred since my previous shift. And now it was time to get to work. “You are doing so well underneath your special lights,” I cooed to her. “And you were such a big girl taking all your feedings last night.”
I walked with her over to a chair in the corner. As I held the bottle to her lips, I said, “You are doing such a good job getting all that yucky extra bilirubin out of you. Yes, you are. You are going to be out of here in no time.”
Her big blue eyes were locked on me. As soon as the words left my lips, a wave of panic overtook me. At first, I thought it was because of the last baby I’d taken care of in Charlotte. But, no. This panic was different. Because what was next for my Maisy girl? What would happen when she left this hospital? Would she become a ward of the state? And what if they found her mother who had left her in the dumpster, the one who clearly didn’t want her? I didn’t judge the woman or girl.I didn’t know her circumstances, which must be dire to have done what she did. But I couldn’t bear the thought of my Maisy being an unwanted child.
As she sucked the bottle, I mused that this was the danger of being a nurse. This was the thing that we were warned about over and over again in nursing school. It was far too easy to become attached to these little patients of ours. They were so small, so helpless. We were their lifelines. We were the ones with them all day and night. It was hard not to feel ownership, even over the babies with great parents who visited every time they could. Because in the nighttime moments, in the hours when parents were off at work or with the babies’ siblings, they were ours. And watching them leave was tough. But, in those circumstances, I always knew when I said goodbye—even if it was a teary goodbye—that those babies were going off to a certain and wonderful future with a family who would love them madly.
This was different. Maisy didn’t have that.
An IV pump beeped, and I looked up, about to act, but Sandy swished in, smiling calmly at me. She was the ultimate head nurse. Cool, collected, and supportive. She was a real mentor to the younger nurses. I had encountered many of those in my career. “Dr. Manuel is coming in to check this guy out one more time,” she said, swooping a baby boy into her arms. “And then it’s home for you, buddy.”
I smiled at her. “Our work here is done,” I said.
She smiled back at me. “It’s the best job in the world,” she said. “But sometimes it’s hard to watch them go.”
I nodded furiously at her. “Yes! I’m so glad you feel that way too.”
“It’s not just you,” she said. “It’s the hardest part about this job. But you know our role.”
I scrunched my nose. “Care for all. Love none?”
She nodded, and my heart clenched. My face must have changed, because Sandy’s did too.
