Bloodchild (3 page)

Of course, it was painful to have a family broken and destroyed by illness, but so many of the kids she met and knew came from broken families. Teenagers today were more independent in many ways, whether they wanted to be or not. In any case, she wasn't the type to sit around and mope. Self-pity had never been attractive to her. She was too ambitious, whether it be about school work or romance, to waste time moaning and groaning about life. She was proud of her maturity and her stability, both of which often made her feel superior. She knew her girlfriends envied her for it, and she knew most boys were attracted to her because of that, as well as because of her good looks.

At five feet eight, with an hourglass figure, thick light brown hair, and dark almond eyes, Colleen knew she was a stand-out. Dana, who had a naturally robust and healthy complexion, was always complimenting her on her peaches-and-cream look. Other women who saw them together believed they shared some cosmetic secret and refused to believe there were no special skin creams or makeup involved.

Part of Colleen's self-confidence came from her awareness of just how attractive she was. Although she wasn't arrogant, she was uncomfortable with false modesty. Instead she had found a middle ground that enabled her to accept compliments gracefully without seeming to flaunt herself.

All this contributed to her aura of stability and maturity. Unlike many girls her age, she did not flit from one style or fad to another. And she had democratic tastes when it came to music or movies or television. Some of the things older people liked, she liked; and some of the things girls her age adored, she despised.

In short, Colleen Hamilton was an individual, matured by tragedy and molded by her own sense of self-worth and ambition. During the six weeks she had been attending Centerville High, she had become very popular with both girls and boys, had begun a romance with the football team's handsome quarterback, and had become a favorite of her teachers. Harlan Hamilton had many reasons to be proud of his beautiful teenage sister.

She turned somewhat reluctantly from Teddy Becker and headed for her car. Harlan had bought her a late-model, walnut-brown Mustang, because, as he jokingly said, "I know it's beneath you seniors to ride the school buses."

Centerville High was a semirural school system that drew from five hamlets. The upstate communities, about ninety miles from New York City, had a combined stable population of about ten thousand people. Many were involved in the resort business because this part of the Catskills was a summer vacation area characterized by camping grounds, lakes and rivers, and famous hotels. However, from the fall to the spring, it was a relatively quiet community, with traffic trickling slowly and lazily through its hamlets, most of which had their stores closed until the next summer. To Colleen, when she drove through the village and saw the dark windows and empty streets, it appeared as though the world around her had gone into hibernation. Coming from a lively Westchester community, this took some getting used to; but she had visited here often and knew what to expect.

Now she was nervous because she didn't know what to expect when she got home. These past few days, Harlan had put her on pins and needles because he was continually emphasizing how emotionally volatile the situation was. He had specifically requested that she come home from school as quickly as possible and make as big a deal as she could of the baby's arrival, not that he really had to tell her to do that. She was already very excited.

Harlan's black New Yorker was in the driveway, which meant he had not returned to his college classes. She pulled in beside the New Yorker, gathered her books in her arms, and hurried to the heavy oak front door. As soon as she entered, the first change took place.

Harlan had come to the top of the stairway to tell her to keep the noise down when all she had done was open and close the front door.

"Nikos is asleep," he said.

"Oh," she whispered.

"You can talk. Dana just asked that you don't bang things around or play music loud."

"I don't do that, anyway," she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Right," Harlan said, and smiled. "I'm so nervous and excited I don't know what I'm saying or doing. Come on up and say hello to Dana."

Colleen started up the stairs, deliberately tiptoeing even though she knew she wasn't heavy-footed and that the thick, dark brown carpet would smother any sounds. She didn't even touch the dark mahogany balustrade for fear it would creak. She put her books on the light maplewood desk in her room and then quickly followed her brother to his bedroom.

Dana was sitting up in the antique brass bed, her face flushed, her hair pinned back tightly. She wore a bright red cotton nightgown, one that Harlan had just bought for her, at her request, which was something Colleen thought was odd, since she knew Dana wasn't very fond of red, especially bright red.

"Hi," Colleen said, and went quickly to her to give her a kiss.

"Hi, honey," she said. "You just missed him. He had a feeding and went right off."

"Can I peek in?"

"Of course."

"How are you feeling?"

"Wonderful," Dana said. "Fulfilled," she added, her eyes making an emphatic turn upward, almost as though she were going to pass out. Colleen smiled at such dramatic expressiveness. Dana was normally a quite reserved person. In fact, she was often the antithesis of Harlan, who sometimes behaved as though he took Shakespeare literally when Shakespeare wrote, "All the world's a stage."

"It's so exciting, huh?"

"Yes, it is. More exciting than I ever imagined it would be."

Dana squeezed Colleen's hand for emphasis and looked so directly and so hard into her face that Colleen blushed.

Harlan stood there smiling dumbly at both of them, his hands in his tweed pants pockets, his shoulders hunched up. He still had his gray-and-white turtleneck sweater draped over his shoulders, the sleeves tucked together on his chest. He looked more like a college student than a college teacher.

"At least now I have an ally," he said. "In a short while you two won't be terrorizing the males in this house the way you have been. It will be the other way around." He started to laugh, but Dana grimaced.

"What a thing to say, Harlan. Nikos isn't the type to terrorize anyone."

He stared at her a moment, surprised she had taken him so literally, and especially surprised that she referred to the baby as a type… as if it already had formed a personality.

"I gotta go see him," Colleen said, and walked out softly. She went to the corner bedroom and pushed on the slightly open door to peer in.

The twelve- by sixteen-foot room had a thick, beige nylon carpet. There were two large windows on the west wall, which permitted sunlight most of the day and gave the room a warm, bright feeling. The walls had been freshly papered with a dark brown box print to match the carpet. To the right was a large walk-in closet. There was a dark maple armoire after that. Across the room were two matching dressers separated by a smaller closet.

The baby was in a dark pecanwood crib. Dana's mother had bought it long-distance by calling an area furniture store and having it delivered nearly a month before Dana's due date. The night after their baby's death and the subsequent adoption, Harlan had told Colleen all of it, and Colleen remembered thinking what it would have been like for Dana to come home without a child and confront that crib.

She tiptoed into the room and approached it. Just as she reached the crib, the infant, its head turned away from her, stirred and turned its head toward her. It opened its eyes, but what attracted her attention was what she thought was a drop of blood caught between its lips. She was about to turn and call for Harlan and Dana when the baby's tongue appeared like a tiny snake and wiped away the drop.

Still shocked by what she thought she had seen, she rushed from the room.

"Isn't he just adorable?" Dana asked as soon as she entered. "Especially when he's sleeping."

"Yes. But he was awake. Dana, I think you should go look in on him."

"Why?" She started to get out of the bed. Colleen looked at Had an.

"What is it, Colleen?" he asked, moving toward the door.

"I thought I saw blood on his lips."

"What?"

"Blood?" Dana said. Her face whitened and they all moved quickly to the baby's room. Colleen remained back at the door as Harlan and Dana peered into the crib.

"He's asleep," Harlan said. He turned back to Colleen.

Dana reached in and touched the baby's lips, moving them about gently. The infant's eyes fluttered and opened, but he didn't cry. Dana lifted him to her and kissed his cheeks.

"He seems perfectly all right," Harlan said. "Dana?"

"He's fine. Wonderful." She kissed him again and put him back into the crib. Almost immediately the baby closed his eyes. For a moment Harlan and Dana just stood staring down at him. Then they turned to Colleen and headed out of the baby's room. She led them back.

"It just looked like blood to me," she said. "I'm sorry I got everybody excited."

Dana said nothing. She crawled back into bed.

"It's all right," Harlan said. "I suppose it's only natural for us to be nervous about him."

"Of course it's natural," Dana said, and turned to Colleen. "Wait until you're a mother."

"I can wait for that," Colleen said, smiling. Dana did not return the smile.

"Well," Harlan said, "I'll go down and put up the steak. Dana's starving," he explained to Colleen, "so she'll eat before us."

"That's all right. I can cook her supper. No problem," Colleen said.

"Naw, you get to your homework. I've got to do something to keep busy. Still a nervous wreck." He held his hands up in front of his face and shook them. "I've got a son in my house." he added proudly, and left the room. Colleen shook her head.

"I'm sorry if I frightened you."

"It's all right," Dana finally said. Colleen stared at Dana. She couldn't help looking at her because she sensed something different about her. Harlan had explained how emotionally draining the entire experience had been. She could appreciate that. When she had gone to the hospital to see the baby, Dana had been sleeping, so they really hadn't had a chance to talk. Now, with Harlan downstairs cooking Dana's supper, Colleen expected they would have one of their intimate conversations.

"You feel all right, though, don't you?" she asked, moving closer to the bed.

"Of course. I'm just a little tired. Breast feeding can be a little tiring in the beginning, and you've got to eat correctly while you're doing it."

"Uh-huh."

"But I wouldn't have it any other way," she added quickly. "You know, it's a proven fact that children who have been breast-fed have fewer allergies and are healthier later on in life."

"Why don't more women do it, then?" Colleen asked.

"Because they're self-centered. They're worrying about their precious figures. Many women today treat having children the same way they treat buying a new dress or piece of furniture. There's no real commitment," Dana said vehemently.

"I don't know if there are many women like that," Colleen said gently.

"There are. I know," Dana insisted. "Anyway, that's not the way I'm going to be."

Colleen nodded. She looked down at the bed and then up quickly.

"Harlan explained everything to me, all that happened. I felt so bad for you and for what you went through."

For a moment Dana looked confused. She blinked her eyes and then sat forward.

"Went through?"

"You know, with the baby dying and all. It must have been—"

"It was a blessing," Dana said quickly. "A blessing."

"What?" Colleen smiled. Had she heard right? "What do you mean?"

"The baby was imperfect. It would have died sooner or later, and just think, honey. If what happened hadn't happened, I wouldn't have Nikos, would I?"

For a moment Colleen couldn't say anything. She let Dana's answer replay itself.

"But… wouldn't you have rather had… your own child?"

"Nikos is my own child," Dana snapped. "I don't want to ever, ever hear otherwise while you're in this house. Do you understand me? Do you?" she repeated, her eyes wide, her mouth twisted in an ugly contortion.

Colleen stepped back as though Dana had slapped her across the face.

"I didn't mean anything bad. I—"

"He is my child. He is!" She pounded the bed. "Do you understand?"

Colleen nodded.

"And if you don't feel that way, stay away from him."

"I didn't mean anything bad," Colleen repeated, the tears coming into her eyes. "I just thought—"

"Thought what?" Dana asked, her head tilted.

"Nothing. I gotta do my homework," Colleen said. "I'll see you later."

She hurried from the room, the tears now freely streaming down her cheeks. She went into her own room and closed the door. A short time later Harlan knocked on it.

"Steak all right for you too?" he asked after she told him to come in.

"Okay," she said, turning away quickly.

"Hey, why so sad?" he asked, and she described what had happened.

"Don't think anything of it," he said softly. "I spoke to the doctor again today before I picked her up," he added. "She's experiencing some personality changes because of the tragedy and all. It's common for a woman to experience some depression after delivery. Before the baby comes, all the attention is on the expectant mother, and then afterward, she can feel neglected. The doctor said they call it postpartum blues. Some get so depressed, they need psychological help.

Hopefully this will pass, but it'll take a little time. Until then just go with the flow, okay, Colleen?"

"Uh-huh."

"Great. So, steak a la Harlan Hamilton it is," he said, and slapped his hands together. "Prepare yourself for a gourmet meal."

She laughed. Her brother was one of the good guys. She thought she was lucky to have him.

Half an hour later she came out of her room to go down for dinner and met Dana coming out of the baby's room. For a moment they just stared at each other.