“Thank God. My wife and I had our first epic meltdown over toilet paper. I was an under the roll guy, and she was an over-the-top girl.”
“Who won?” I fall into step with him and as we enter the lobby, Ora waves at the two of us from her desk.
“My wife, of course.” He winks and tips his cap toward me. “Do you care if I step out early today?”
“No, of course not. I’m going to go out on patrol and meeting Grabill back here in an hour.”
Once I’m in the cruiser, I buckle up and check my phone for messages from Emily. She was scheduled to meet Iris at the hospital four hours ago.
Me: Hey, Pretty Girl, everything okay?
Emily: Yep. She just passed the car seat test, so we’ll be on our way in a few minutes.
Me: Everything okay?
Emily: Yes. Excited but scared. What if I drop her?
In two rings, she picks up. “Babe, you aren’t going to drop her. And if you happen to be sitting in a lawn chair on gravel on a decline and topple over…. You’ll protect her, and she’ll be fine.”
“That sounds awfully specific.” Her laughter soothes my nerves which was my intent. I needed to make her feel better, so I wasn’t freaking out.
“My mom told me that happened to her when I was two months old. She braced herself, eased to the ground, and while I cried, it was more from being woken up from a nap than from any injuries. I didn’t even get a lump on my head.”
“Are you sure?” Her laughter grows louder.
“Last night, you didn’t question my intelligence or my skills.”
“I’m teasing.” There’s a sharp intake of breath. “They’re here. I’ll be leaving in a few minutes.”
“Be careful.”
“I will.”
When the phone clicks off, I rub my face. Everything’s going to be fine. She’s going to be a fabulous mother. Foster mother.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Emily
Waiting at the hospital for the baby to be released took longer than I anticipated. It made sense that it took time to prove my identity and finalize the paperwork, but I had no idea she needed to pass a car seat test before she could be released.
Finally, I get to see her. In the days since she’s been in the hospital, she’s lost that gaunt look which has been replaced by smooth cheeks and bright brown eyes. Her dark hair curls at the ends against her skull. “She’s slightly under what she came into the hospital weighing.”
“She doesn’t look it.” She’s swaddled in one of those white hospital baby blankets with the blue and pink stripes around the edges. “She looks healthy.”
“She is healthy and strong but it’s normal for an infant who’s going through withdrawal to struggle latching onto a bottle, and then, there’s the trembling, vomit, and diarrhea that take a few days to withstand before the drugs in their system tapers off. But her complexion has evened out, which is probably why she looks healthier.”
“Thank God.”
She tosses handful of pacifiers into a bag. “She’s been stable for the last two days. She’s one of the lucky ones. There are some babies who’re addicted to opiates that remain in the hospital for three months.”
“Three months?”
“Yes. Those are difficult cases. But with Baby Doe, we expect her to make a quick rebound in her weight at this point.”
“Perfect.” My hands shake as I clasp them together.
Now that I’m standing here, waiting for her to be released, and in the same hospital room, my heart is pounding in my ears. Everything feels surreal. I’m going to walk out of here with a baby. Who in the hell thought that was a good idea? I don’t know the first thing about newborns.
