Read Online The Sasquatch Hunter's Almanac by Sharma Shields - Free Book Online

Amelia. She tried to hand her to Gladys, but Gladys demurred.
    â€œNo,” she said. “I don’t want to hold her. Just to see her. To make sure she’s all right.”
    The baby was well, satisfied from a recent bottle and sleepy from the trials of being born. She kept her little eyes fastened tightly shut, as though refusing to look at her mother. Gladys pestered the nurses with questions about every wrinkle and discoloration and coo, but the nurses were steadfast: The baby was well; there was nothing wrong with her; she was perfect. Redness, bruising, gurgling—all of that was to be expected. Gladys half-listened, eyes and fingers roving wildly over the baby, seeking imperfections. The nurse holding the baby grew tired of supporting the child at such an awkward angle and asked Gladys again if she wanted to hold the baby herself.
    â€œNo,” Gladys said. “No, I’m fine. Please. Just. Take care of her. My Amelia. Take care of her, please.”
    The ugly nurse straightened, bringing the baby against her shoulder, and clucked reassuringly. She was the kinder of the nurses, filled with pity. She was dowdy, fat, and a little too pale, but at least she was kind.
    The other nurse—slim, pretty, skeptical—said she would ring for a doctor. She glared at Gladys with little concern, only rancor.
    Gladys supplicated the kinder nurse. “The birds, you see. They’re scaring me. The way they gathered at the window. Like an army. An evil army. You see?”
    â€œYou need to sleep,” the pretty nurse said. “Sleep will help with the mania, with the hormones…”
    Gladys knit her brow. Why wouldn’t this woman go away?
    â€œâ€¦ and,” the pretty nurse continued, “a tranquilizer. You’ll need another tranquilizer. I’ll ring the doctor straightaway.”
    â€œYoung lady,” Gladys said, “I would like to see the head nurse, please. This is an outrage.”
    The pretty woman raised her chin. “I’m the head nurse, Mrs. Dr. Roebuck.”
    â€œThen you should be fired. I’ll see to it that you are.”
    The kind nurse looked as if she was about to cry.
    â€œTake the baby back to the nursery,” the pretty nurse said, and the kind nurse obeyed quickly.
    â€œChildbirth,” the nurse said pedantically to Gladys, “can be very trying. A woman under duress may see things or hear things, but they aren’t really there. A woman under duress—”
    â€œI will see to it that you’re demoted immediately,” Gladys interrupted. “I’m a powerful woman. A doctor’s wife.”
    â€œA podiatrist’s wife,” the nurse corrected.
    Gladys hated her weak limbs then. In a better state, she would have leapt from the bed and smacked this pretty little brunette chicken senseless.
    â€œGet me the doctor,” Gladys ordered. “Right now.”
    The woman bowed her head with fake reverence, turned sharply, and hurried out of the room, her white shoes squeaking miserably against the floor.
    I’ll teach this rude young woman a lesson, Gladys thought. Having such a task at hand made her feel better. It gave her control.
    And sure enough, as promised, Gladys worked on the woman’s demotion throughout her week’s stay in the hospital. She was kept on as a nurse but was forced into the night shift. Gladys took pleasure in bettering things and saw to it that the kind fat nurse took up the vacated position, despite the hospital’s reluctance regarding her leadership skills.
    The key to being powerful, Gladys knew, was telling people you were powerful. Eli stood at her side, lips pressed, as she ranted and raved to anyone who would listen. She leaned on them all, wronged, tearful, until they had no choice but to give in to her.
    When it was time to return home, Gladys was glad for it. She left with a feeling of triumph. She had her daughter now. The pretty nurse had received her