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"Please, can I see her?" I begged.
"You're limited to five minutes, I'm afraid." She looked at Jimmy.
"This is my fiancé," I said. "She's never met him."
The nurse nodded and almost smiled. Then she stepped back to indicate what cubicle Grandmother Cutler was in. It was a room with glass walls. We could see her lying there with an I.V. in her arm and the screen of her heart monitor revealing the beating of her heart. I thanked the nurse and we walked to the cubicle.
Seeing her in the hospital bed with the white sheets pulled up to her neck, Grandmother Cutler looked far less formidable and terrifying. She looked her true size; in fact, she looked shrunken, diminutive, pale and old, a shadow of what she once was. Her steel-blue hair lay stiffly around her waxen face. She had her eyes shut tight. The only other part of her that was visible was her left arm in which the I.V. needle had been placed. Her hand was clenched, the long, crooked fingers twisted over each other. I saw the thin blue veins in her wrist and forearm beneath her parchment-like skin.
I might have been overcome with pity, even for her, if it weren't for a quick image of my baby wrapped in its blanket and in my arms. Grandmother's Cutler's face and head didn't look much bigger than an infant's face and head right now and that resemblance quickly reminded me of my purpose and need. She knew where my baby had been taken. I had to find out.
I stepped up to the bed. Jimmy remained in the doorway.
"Grandmother Cutler," I said sharply. Her eyelids fluttered but didn't
open. "Grandmother Cutler, it's me . . . Dawn. Open your eyes," I commanded.
The eyelids fluttered again. It was as if she were trying to resist opening them, but finally, they did so and she gazed up at me, her face expressionless, but the right corner of her mouth was twitching. Her eyes had not lost their icy glint.
"Where did you have my baby taken? You must tell me," I said. "Your sister was terrible to me. She tormented and punished me for months and months. I'll bet you knew she'd do that to me. She even tried to cause a miscarriage, but my baby was born healthy and beautiful. Nothing you did was able to prevent that. My Christie is beautiful and you had no right to give her away, to arrange for someone to take her from me. Where is she?" I demanded. "You must tell me!"
Her mouth began to twitch faster and her lips trembled.
"I know you're seriously ill, but this is the time to do something right and good." My voice softened. "I'm begging you, please . . . tell me."
Her mouth opened and closed without producing a sound, but I saw her tongue lift inside.
"You did this terrible thing once before, Grand-mother Cutler. Please, don't do it again. Don't let my baby grow up believing one set of parents are her real parents when they're not. I need my baby with me. She needs me. She belongs with me. Only I can give her the love she deserves and help make her life good and happy. You must tell me where she is!"
She struggled harder to speak, her head now moving from side to side. Her heart monitor began to fluctuate and the beat became more rapid.
"Please," I begged. "Please."
She closed and opened her mouth again, this time producing sounds. I knelt closer to understand and brought my ear to her lips. It was mostly gurgling in her throat, but I began to make out some words.
She uttered them and then closed her eyes and turned away. The heart monitor began a high-pitched, monotonous ring.
"Why?" I cried. "Why?"
"What's going on here?" the nurse demanded, coming to the door of the cubicle. She rushed to the bed. She seized Grandmother Cutler's wrist and held it. Then she pressed a button and rushed to the door to stick her head out and call to another nurse who was standing at the desk. "Code Blue," she cried.
"Step outside!" she ordered me and Jimmy.
"Maybe she'll wake up in a moment," I pleaded.
"No. You'll have to leave," the nurse insisted.
I gazed down at Grandmother Cutler. Her face looked like a shrunken prune. Frustrated, I turned away and walked out of the intensive care unit with Jimmy right behind me as the intensive care unit went into action.
"What happened?" he demanded as soon as we stepped into the corridor. "What did she say to you?"
"It was hard to understand," I said, sitting on the bench in the hall.
"What?" He sat down beside me.
"All she would say was 'You're my curse.' "
"You? Her curse?" He shook his head. "I don't understand."
