Grievous Sin (5 page)

Cindy nodded solemnly, thinking that Bellson would have been a great Puritan. She could picture the woman in a Pilgrim’s hat, her reedy body covered by a black dress with a starched white apron, fingers kneading stiff bread dough in a
one-room shack heated by a black iron cauldron. Pilgrim Bellson would be an attentive mother—caring—but she’d never crack a smile. The Pilgrim glanced at her watch—the timepiece an anachronism that brought Cindy back to the present.

“I’m running late,” Bellson said.

“My fault, I’m sorry,” Cindy said. “I’ll wait in the nursery and won’t go past the yellow line.”

“Good.” Bellson played with her ring again. “It’s nice what you’re doing for your sister. As long as you remember you’re not the infant’s mother. I hope your stepmother takes your place soon.”

“I hope so, too,” Cindy said. And she meant it.

The kick aroused
her from a dull sleep. She opened her eyes and was staring at loin-clothed crotch. She couldn’t even tell who the crotch belonged to, because the wall of chest muscle hid the face. The voice told her to get the hell up. For a moment, she panicked. Her heart began to pound, awakening her out of her stupor.

The low one’s come back!

But then the voice was familiar in a positive way.

Mack.

The voice belonged to
Mack.

She relaxed.

Back in control.

It was Mack.

Eric was better, but Mack was okay.

“Are you just going to lie around and gather dust like a rug? If you’re a rug, maybe I should take you out and beat you.”

The floor was cold and hard. His intimidation was working. She was feeling appropriately hostile. Lifting heavy weights required the rush, and nothing gave you the rush like hostility. “Shut up!”

“So are you ready to work or what?”

“I’m ready.”

He held out his hand. She took it, and he hoisted her to her feet. He threw a bundle at her.

“Put some clothes on.”

She nodded and dressed quickly.

“How much time do you have?” Mack asked.

“Two hours.”

“Two hours? Tandy, we can’t do
anything
in two hours.”

“Well, that’s all the time I have, Mack. Take it or leave it. Help me with my weight belt.”

“You should get a better-quality belt.” Mack slipped the leather straps through the metal loops and pulled tightly, enjoying the sound of her curses. “After two years of pumping, you’re no virgin, you know. You want to make progress, you need the right gear.”

“I’m a little tight on cash at the moment.”

“Hey, are you serious about building or what?”

“Of course I’m serious.”

“Then find the cash, Tandy. If you’re gonna do, do it right.”

“It’s too tight, Mack!”

Again Mack pulled on the straps.

“There!
Now
it’s too tight.”

“You are such a sadist!”

“Fuck you! What’s this two hours crap? Are you committed, or are you playing games? We don’t have time for games.”

“I told you I’m committed.”

“That’s what you say, but that’s not how you act,” Mack snarled. “Two hours…”

“How about the pecs? We could do the pecs in two hours, Mack.”

“Yeah, we could probably do the pecs,” Mack said. “Be better if we had three hours.”

“I have to work. I’m pulling the graveyard shift.” She attempted a deep breath, but the belt was too tight. All she could do was exhale short little puffs. “I’m going to need something, Mack.”

“What? Like some B-six?”

“Something stronger.”

Mack paused. “It can be arranged.”

“You’re a doll—”

“Hey, I don’t want to ever hear that kind of
shit
before a session!”

“Okay, you’d be a doll if you weren’t such a dumb jerk!”

“Much
better
!”

Mack slammed her back into his granite-hard chest. He reached around her body and felt her breasts. “I hate to say this. But you’re coming along nicely.”

She felt herself smiling. “Thanks. Or shouldn’t I say that?”

“You shouldn’t say that. You should say, ‘Of course I’m coming along,
asshole
!’ You’ve got to learn to get your body to deliver the
rush.
Pumped up means more than just the physical body, you know.”

“I know.”

He felt her again. “Yeah, you’re doing well. Of course, there’s always room for improvement. Your pecs have good tone, but no bulk.”

“What are you
talking
about! My chest is getting bigger all the time, and not a drop of it is due to fat.”

“Not enough.” Mack shook his head. “I’m going to increase your weights. What are you at?”

“Twenty each arm free weights.”

“How many reps?”

“Twenty.”

“How ’bout we use twenty-five weights, but we’ll drop the reps to ten. Try to bulk you up.”

“Whatever you think.”

“Tandy, get
mean
!”

She turned around and smiled. Then she punched his stomach as hard as she could. Her entire hand went numb from the impact, but it did the job. Mack had sucked in air from the surprise punch. Not a lot of air—not more than a little gulp—but she had actually caught him
off guard.
Mack shook his head, laughed, then pinned her against the wall. They went nose-to-nose.

“You ever try a stunt like that again, I’ll
kill
you!”

She spit at him. He spit back. Then they both laughed.

Mack said, “No good. Can’t pump and laugh at the same time.” He stared at her, then squeezed her arms with his massive claws. He thought he was being scary. But nothing,
nothing
physical, could be as scary as the mind out of control. She bit back the pain and kept eye contact.

“Good,” Mack whispered. “That was real good, Tandy.”

She felt him slowly easing the pressure off her arms, then he ran his hands over her breasts. Tandy closed her eyes. It felt good. In another world, she might have delved further. But that wasn’t where she was at now. Mack knew it, too. And really that wasn’t where
he
was at, either. It was just the touching. Gorgeous bodies like hers and his…they were meant to be touched by those who could truly appreciate them.

“You ready to
sweat
, girlie?” he said.

“Always.”

The shaking of
his shoulder brought Decker into a groggy state of consciousness. He leaped up, then felt unsteady on his legs. He could feel an arm giving him support. He rubbed his eyes and focused on a round, fair face. A body garbed in slacks, sports shirt, and a white coat—Dr. Hendricks. No more scrubs. Decker took that as a very good sign.

“Are you all right?” Hendricks asked.

“I fell asleep. I can’t believe I did that.”

“Happens to the best of us.” The doctor felt the stubble on his chin. “Rina’s progressing well. I just finished putting in the order to move her to the ICU. I don’t expect she’ll stay there long. I just want to make sure we have everything under control. You can see her now. She’s still heavily sedated, so don’t count on a lot of witty repartee.”

Decker smiled.

“She was oriented when I spoke to her. Her vitals are good. All indications are she’ll be just fine.”

“Thank
God
!”

Hendricks placed a hand on Decker’s shoulder. “I’ll be around for the next hour or so. I’ll need to talk to you, but I know how anxious you are to see Rina. Peter, I don’t want you shocked by her appearance.”

“Doctor, I’ve seen everything in any kind of condition imaginable.”

“It’s different when it’s your wife.”

Cerebrally, he was prepared. Emotionally, he wasn’t. Her complexion was chalky gray, lips so pale they blended with the rest of her skin tone. Her hair had been pulled off her face. What strands did show were limp with perspiration. Her left arm was attached to a board on the bedrail, the underside bruised and milky white. An I.V. was held in place by big white bandages at her wrist. The rest of her body was covered by a bedsheet. Her sleep seemed deep—not a hint of movement under her delicate lids. He’d seen stiffs with better color. That thought gave him a chill.

He was afraid to touch her, afraid she might turn to dust like an antique document. Carefully, he edged his hand toward her cheek, letting it rest above her mouth for just a moment, felt her sweet breath upon his palm. He inched his fingers to her lips, then quickly removed his hand. Biting his lower lip, he pulled a chair by her bedside and broke into the shakes. He knew he should call Rina’s parents, but he needed time to convince himself that she was really okay.

He hugged his body and watched his wife sleep. Forcing himself calm, he took her hand in his, encircled his fingers around hers. She didn’t stir. He didn’t remember how long he sat like that. The next thing he knew, the doctor was waking him again. His eyes went to the wall clock. It was after twelve. Slowly, he extricated his hand from Rina’s. She hadn’t changed position.

Decker stood and the doctor put his arm around him. He whispered, “Let’s go in my office.”

“It’s okay to leave her?”

“Yes, she’s fine.”

They stepped outside the ICU into a brightly lit hallway, eerie because it was so empty. Then Decker stopped.

“My daughter!”

“Your baby’s doing great, Peter. Pediatrician’ll be in tomorrow if you want to talk to him.”

“No, my other daughter,” Decker said. “She’s nineteen. She was with the baby. I told her to check in with me before she left. If she walked by herself to the parking lot, I’ll wring her neck. You keep thinking there’ll come a time when you’ll stop worrying about your kids….”

“Nah, it never comes,” Hendricks said.

“Do you mind if I find out where she is?”

“Go ahead. My office is room six-seventy-eight B. I’ll wait for you there.”

Decker asked Hendricks how to get to Nursery J. As he listened to the doc’s words, he was acutely aware of the fact that his ears were hearing, but his brain wasn’t processing. Although Hendricks had pointed him in the right direction, Decker didn’t know where he was going. He was senile from worry and lack of sleep, walking in a stuporous state down long plush corridors that seemed to meld into other hallways that led nowhere.

After a couple of false starts, he somehow reached the correct nursery. He peeked in the window—two rows of layettes containing bundles topped by little fuzzy heads. As his eyes danced over the tiny faces, Decker suddenly realized that his own infant daughter’s bassinet was gone. That jolted his heart and cleared his brain.

He knocked on the entry to the nursery but didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he turned the knob just as a scrub-suited woman opened the door from the other side. She was middle-aged and petite, her face small and pinched. She was wearing a hair cap. Her name tag said
DARLENE JAMISON, RN
.

“I’m Peter Decker. I was just wondering where my baby was. My baby daughter…and my other one, too. Both my daughters. Did you happen to see—”

“You’re Cindy’s father. Can tell ’cause of the hair. Relax. She’s fine…in the back with the baby. They’re both sleeping.” Darlene broke into a grin and shook her head. “Come in.
If you want to see your dynamic duo, you’re gonna have to put on some protective clothing. And you’ll have to take your shoes off, too.”

Decker stepped inside the waiting area of the nursery, the anteroom so brightly lit it hurt his eyes. Instantly, his ears were assaulted by high-pitched squalls and protests. His eyes drifted over to the layettes. Baby Girl Jackson seemed to be making most of the noise. Her mouth was wide open, and she was howling up a storm. She sat between Baby Girl Rodriguez, who was beet red from her wailing, and Baby Boy Yamata, who seemed above it all. His big eyes were open and staring at the ceiling as if to say, Lord, what is wrong with all these people?

Decker couldn’t help but smile. A big yellow line set out the perimeters of where he was allowed to place his feet. Beyond the line was a glassed hallway on either side, doors leading to the nurseries. As far as Decker could see, Darlene was the only person tending sheep.

“My daughters are okay?” Decker said.

“Dandy.” Darlene chuckled. “Hope you realize your big girl’s a real mama lion. She’s
very
attached to the baby. When things settle down, you might want to gently remind her that she’s the sister, not the mother.”

Decker ran his hands down his face.

“Not what you wanted to hear, huh?” Darlene patted his shoulder. “Sorry. Cindy’ll be fine. How’s your wife doing?”

“She’s pretty wiped out. Her doctor’s waiting to talk to me. Do you want me to talk to Cindy now?”

“No, not at all. I don’t mean to say that Cindy is a problem. She’s a great kid, full of spunk. I think it’s kinda cute. ’Course, I’m a little hang-loose. Single mother of three, five years on the graveyard shift, you learn to relax and smile if you want to survive. I’m pretty much my own boss. No one bothers to come down and check things out at one in the morning. Marie’s the one with all the pressure.”

“Did Marie and Cindy get into any kind of conflict?”

“Well, it’s not that Cindy’s gettin’ in the way, it’s…I think it’s a turf problem. Marie’s an institution here. She’s used to postpartum moms—tired, anxious, and willing to hang on to everything Marie’s got to say. Now a kid like Cindy comes along—full of energy. Marie’s just not used to that. Marie told me to kick Cindy out when I came on shift at eleven. But, heck, she really seems like a good kid. Talks nicely about you, her mom, her stepmom and stepbrothers. I know this is her first sibling, and she’s so excited. I just didn’t have the heart. And then she fell asleep….”

“I’ll talk to her.”

“You don’t have to do it now, Detective….” Darlene paused. “Is that the right title?”

Technically, it was Detective Sergeant, but Decker told her Detective was fine.

“I don’t care really,” Darlene said. “I like Cindy. But Marie’s the boss. You’ll have to work by her rules.”

“I understand.” Decker took an Advil from his pocket and popped the pill in his mouth. “Let me talk to the doctor, then I’ll come back.”

“You’ve got two lovely daughters,” Darlene said. “And I know you’ve got some stepsons, too—a real nice family. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. Do you have any idea where six-seventy-eight B is?”

Darlene laughed. “Place is a maze, isn’t it? I’ll at least get you to the elevator and give you directions from there.” She crooked a finger. “This way.”

Decker followed her, an obedient robot wondering why the hair on his neck was standing on end. It wasn’t because he was tired. It wasn’t because Darlene had told him that basically Cindy was being a pain in the neck. It wasn’t even because of Rina. It wasn’t until he was standing in front of the door to room 678B that he figured out what was bothering him. It was Darlene Jamison, RN. She was the only one Decker had seen actually in Nursery J. And she had left the babies alone to walk him to the elevator.

Hendricks’s hospital office was designed strictly for function. Into the small space were crammed a standard institutional-issue metal desk, a low-back secretary’s chair, and two waiting-room chairs that had seen better days. On the walls were metal shelves holding reference books, medical tomes, and an old coffeemaker. Decker recalled the doctor’s private-practice office—decorated to the hilt. But for some reason, Decker felt Hendricks was more at home here. He seemed more relaxed. Maybe it was just fatigue.

“Have a seat.” Hendricks opened a chart on his desk. “Did you find your daughter?”

“She was with the baby in the nursery. Apparently, she’s becoming quite attached to her.”

“It’s her first sibling, isn’t it?”

“She has stepbrothers, but this is different.”

“Is she close to her stepbrothers?”

The questions seemed out of place—too personal. Must be trying out some rapport-building, Decker thought. The guy had something on his mind but didn’t want to jump into it.

“She likes her stepbrothers, but the relationships aren’t close ones. Not a lot of history between them.”

Hendricks shifted in his seat. “Are you close to your stepsons?”

Decker paused, thinking what a
weird
question that was. Maybe Hendricks was worried he was going to show favoritism. He shouldn’t have been concerned.

“I’m very close to them. I consider them my own sons, and I love them dearly.”

“Are you their legal father?”

Now Decker was genuinely taken aback.

“Uh, no, not yet.” His heart began to race as he moved to the edge of his seat. “Why? Is Rina in danger—”

“No, no, no. Nothing like that. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Decker sat back and blew out air. “I’d adopt them if they wanted. I didn’t want to take away their father’s identity. I’m ready for it. But I don’t know if they are.”

“Very sensitive of you.”

Decker didn’t answer, trying to assess where Hendricks was coming from. The doctor looked down at the chart, clearly uncomfortable. Decker wished he’d get on with it.

“So your daughter’s taken a shine to her new little sister,” Hendricks said. “That’s nice.”

“Do you think it’s a bad idea for her to become attached to the baby?”

“Only if it’s to the exclusion of her normal activities. Why? Is there a problem?”

Decker rubbed his face. “She seems to be having some conflict with Nurse Bellson, getting in her way, that kind of thing.”

Hendricks rolled his eyes. “Marie’s a damn good nurse, but she does get a bit possessive.”

“Not the first time there’s been a conflict?”

Hendricks shook his head. “You want me to talk to Marie for you?”

“No, no, no. I’ll handle my daughter.”

“Isn’t she going back to college soon?”

Decker nodded.

“So it should work itself out,” Hendricks said.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Hendricks yawned. “Sorry. It’s been a long night—a busy night. Not just Rina, others as well. Having babies must be in the air. But I did want to talk to you before I left, tell you what happened…explain a few things.”

Decker waited.

“Rina developed a condition known as accreta.” Hendricks sighed and spelled it. “Basically, the placenta didn’t come out on its own. This can happen for a lot of different reasons, the most common being that the placenta adheres to the uterus. When this occurs, we have to go in and physically remove all of the tissue. Sometimes we can do it with a simple D and C. We go in and scrape the uterus…clean everything out.”

“There’s a ‘but’ to this, isn’t there?” Decker said.

Hendricks’s eyes went from Decker to the chart. Decker felt his stomach churn.

“What?”

“Rina’s hemorrhaging was quite severe; her blood pressure was beginning to drop precipitously. We had no choice but to operate. Once we did, we found out what the problem was. The placenta had grown through the uterus, and that’s what caused all the hemorrhaging. I’m sorry to tell you this, Peter, but Rina had a hysterectomy.”

His words hung in the air. Decker was too stunned to respond. The room suddenly seemed to take on motion, walls pulsating, the bookshelves undulating. Nausea crept from his stomach to his throat. He swallowed to keep from retching and covered his mouth with his hand.

Hendricks fiddled with the chart. “I know this must be quite a shock to you—”

“Couldn’t you just have
cut
it out?” Decker blurted. “The placenta…couldn’t you have surgically removed it?”

“No—”

“You had to take the
whole
uterus out?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t understand—”

“Peter—”

“I mean, isn’t that what surgery is? Cutting things out? Cutting
selective
things out?”

Hendricks didn’t answer.

Decker said, “I just don’t understand why…”

“Peter,” Hendricks said softly, “her placenta was like an open hose of blood. The more I tried to remove it, the more she bled. I had no option whatsoever. I know how Rina feels about children. I delivered Samuel and Jacob, and I held her hand after all three of her miscarriages—”

“I thought she miscarried because her husband was so sick. That’s what she told me.”

Hendricks was silent.

“No?” Decker’s voice sounded desperate.

“Peter,” Hendricks began, “who knows why she miscarried? Needless to say, I was delighted when she carried this baby to term. Throughout this ordeal, please try to remember, she did give birth to a beautiful little girl. You have a healthy daughter. Good heavens, I know Rina wanted a slew of children. And this is going to hit her very hard. That’s why I asked you how close you are to her sons. Some men get idiotic with the idea of having a boy—”