Read Online Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 2 by Various Authors - Free Book Online
Authors: Various Authors
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to contact someone?" She glanced at his left hand: no wedding ring. "A friend? Someone from your family?"
Mark. He wanted Mark. He was beginning to understand what the woman was trying to tell him, but only through a foggy curtain of disbelief. With some part of his mind he knew that it was not only the baby that was dead. But another part of him was still sure that it couldn't be true.
"There's nobody," he said, his voice coming out too loud. "Nobody here."
"And the baby's father…?"
Jules shook his head. "He's out of the picture."
"We'll have to try to find him, but we can discuss that later."
"It won't be possible," Jules said. "It was something very brief, a man she met skiing last winter." He'd seen her just before that, at Christmas, and she had told him she had a yearning to get pregnant: he had assumed she meant later, when she met the right man. He felt a prickling in his sinuses and forced his emotion down. "She told me she didn't even ask his last name."
The social worker nodded and made a note. Then finally she took him to the lift, but instead of going up they went down to the basement. He knew where they were going, knew that Claire was dead, and yet somehow he still believed that his visit would revive her. He would touch her, she would wake up and he would help her to his rented car and take her back with her grief to her apartment. It was lucky, he thought, that he hadn't arrived in time to transform her spare room into a nursery, hadn't arrived with his arms full of the pink stuffed toys that he'd been planning to buy next week. It would upset her to see baby things now.
But Claire's body, when he saw it, was beyond being upset by anything. It was cold and pale, lifeless, lacking any trace of her flaky personality. It had her face and yet it was so unlike her that his escort had to ask him twice before he would confirm that it was his sister. He touched the cheek, just in case it might bring her back, but there was no response, no flush of life. Claire was elsewhere, beyond his reach.
He stood there so long that the social worker had to take his arm. "Would you like to see the baby now?" she asked gently.
Jules shook his head. "That can't be necessary. I can't identify a baby I never saw before. Just have them bury it with her."
"But— I did tell you. Didn't you understand? The baby's doing very well. She's in the special care unit but it's just a precaution. She will be fine."
****
The little creature was asleep in a big plastic box with a tube in her nose and a drip in her wrist. She looked wrinkled and vulnerable. She had a funny little face with a pursed up mouth and tightly closed eyes. He couldn't see Claire in her at all. She looked exactly like any other baby, as far as he could tell. Still, he admired her persistence. It was hard to believe that Claire with all her crazy energy was dead and yet this little scrap had survived.
They made him rub gel on his hands, then they encouraged him to reach through a hole in the side of the box. He touched the baby's cheek just as he had touched Claire's. Like Claire, she didn't wake, but she was warm and he could see her snuffling and twitching in her sleep.
They had dressed her in something pink and white. He wondered if it belonged to the hospital, or if Claire had picked it out in a shop, not knowing that she would never see her baby wearing it. But it was better not to think about Claire.
He sat beside the plastic box watching the baby for a while. He wondered what would happen to her. Some family would adopt her, he supposed: in spite of his feeling that this was all unreal, he worried a little when he thought of everything that could go wrong for her. She looked so defenseless.
He left when a nurse came to check on her. The first thing he did when he got back to the car was to look for his phone. There were no messages from Claire, just two from the hospital, asking him to call. He knew now that she had died around ten, just as his plane
Mark. He wanted Mark. He was beginning to understand what the woman was trying to tell him, but only through a foggy curtain of disbelief. With some part of his mind he knew that it was not only the baby that was dead. But another part of him was still sure that it couldn't be true.
"There's nobody," he said, his voice coming out too loud. "Nobody here."
"And the baby's father…?"
Jules shook his head. "He's out of the picture."
"We'll have to try to find him, but we can discuss that later."
"It won't be possible," Jules said. "It was something very brief, a man she met skiing last winter." He'd seen her just before that, at Christmas, and she had told him she had a yearning to get pregnant: he had assumed she meant later, when she met the right man. He felt a prickling in his sinuses and forced his emotion down. "She told me she didn't even ask his last name."
The social worker nodded and made a note. Then finally she took him to the lift, but instead of going up they went down to the basement. He knew where they were going, knew that Claire was dead, and yet somehow he still believed that his visit would revive her. He would touch her, she would wake up and he would help her to his rented car and take her back with her grief to her apartment. It was lucky, he thought, that he hadn't arrived in time to transform her spare room into a nursery, hadn't arrived with his arms full of the pink stuffed toys that he'd been planning to buy next week. It would upset her to see baby things now.
But Claire's body, when he saw it, was beyond being upset by anything. It was cold and pale, lifeless, lacking any trace of her flaky personality. It had her face and yet it was so unlike her that his escort had to ask him twice before he would confirm that it was his sister. He touched the cheek, just in case it might bring her back, but there was no response, no flush of life. Claire was elsewhere, beyond his reach.
He stood there so long that the social worker had to take his arm. "Would you like to see the baby now?" she asked gently.
Jules shook his head. "That can't be necessary. I can't identify a baby I never saw before. Just have them bury it with her."
"But— I did tell you. Didn't you understand? The baby's doing very well. She's in the special care unit but it's just a precaution. She will be fine."
****
The little creature was asleep in a big plastic box with a tube in her nose and a drip in her wrist. She looked wrinkled and vulnerable. She had a funny little face with a pursed up mouth and tightly closed eyes. He couldn't see Claire in her at all. She looked exactly like any other baby, as far as he could tell. Still, he admired her persistence. It was hard to believe that Claire with all her crazy energy was dead and yet this little scrap had survived.
They made him rub gel on his hands, then they encouraged him to reach through a hole in the side of the box. He touched the baby's cheek just as he had touched Claire's. Like Claire, she didn't wake, but she was warm and he could see her snuffling and twitching in her sleep.
They had dressed her in something pink and white. He wondered if it belonged to the hospital, or if Claire had picked it out in a shop, not knowing that she would never see her baby wearing it. But it was better not to think about Claire.
He sat beside the plastic box watching the baby for a while. He wondered what would happen to her. Some family would adopt her, he supposed: in spite of his feeling that this was all unreal, he worried a little when he thought of everything that could go wrong for her. She looked so defenseless.
He left when a nurse came to check on her. The first thing he did when he got back to the car was to look for his phone. There were no messages from Claire, just two from the hospital, asking him to call. He knew now that she had died around ten, just as his plane
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