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"Who would do such a thing?" Mrs. Boston wondered aloud.
Moments later Clara Sue appeared in my doorway. "What happened?" she asked, a wide smile on her face. "Did I miss some excitement?"
"Where have you been?" Mrs. Boston asked, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.
"I fell asleep listening to records," Clara Sue answered nonchalantly.
"I didn't hear no records playin'," Mrs. Boston said.
"Well, who says your hearing's so good?" Clara Sue snapped before smiling again. Then she turned to look at me, and her eyes gleamed. "I had them playing during Christie's nap, and it didn't bother her at all. She is such a good baby, isn't she, Dawn?" With that she left.
Mrs. Boston and I looked at each other, Mrs. Boston's face screwed tightly in anger.
"From this day on, Mrs. Boston, I don't ever want her in my room, and never near Christie," I said in a sharp tone.
"Amen to that," Mrs. Boston said.
Christie slept in my bed with me that night. The events of the evening had left me so frightened, it took hours for me to stop shaking. Every once in a while I had to reassure myself that Christie was all right, and when I did fall asleep, I woke up with a start every few hours and checked her again and again. Finally, just when the morning light was breaking over the horizon, I fell into a deep sleep. As if she knew how much I needed it, Christie didn't cry to be fed, and it was Mrs. Boston who woke me the following morning.
I shook the sleep out of my body the best I could and got up to go prepare Christie's formula, but Mrs. Boston was right there at the door with it.
"I thought it was about time," she said.
"That's so nice of you, Mrs. Boston. Thank you," I said, and I lifted Christie into my arms. Then I sat in the rocker and fed her. I thought to myself that she had Michael's eyes, but my nose and mouth. She clutched her tiny pink fingers into little fists and opened her eyes wide to gaze into mine. I thought her mouth formed a silent "Oh," and that made me laugh. When she drank she focused on my face and didn't shift her eyes the whole time.
It seemed so long ago, truly in another life, when Momma Longchamp had given birth to Fern, and I had to take care of her because Momma was so weak and sick; but once I began to take care of Christie, all that I knew and had learned about babies returned.
I was so entranced with Christie and had been concentrating so hard that I didn't hear Mother come to the room, nor had I realized that Mrs. Boston had left.
"My God," she moaned, "what was all that commotion about last night? Was it a dream?"
"It was no dream, Mother. I'm afraid Clara Sue pulled a sick prank. She took Christie and left her in the laundry bin downstairs. Of course, she denies it, but I'm sure she did it."
Mother shook her head as if the words confused her. She looked drugged on sleep. I couldn't believe how Mother had let herself go. Her good looks had always been so important to her, even when she was supposedly in the throes of some terrible ailment. I never saw her in or out of bed without her makeup on her face and her hair brushed and styled. And she always wore some jewelry.
Here she was in one of her older and more ragged-looking robes, her hair unbrushed and straggly, wearing no jewelry and no makeup, her face as pale as it could be. Even her lips had lost color. She shook her head and walked farther into the room. Then she grimaced.
"Don't you feel ridiculous?" she asked.
"Ridiculous? Why should I feel ridiculous, Mother?" I replied.
"Sitting there with a baby in your arms, unmarried and with so much responsibility now in your life." She sighed deeply. "I wish you had listened to me when I spoke to you just before you left to get her back.
"Her real father deserted you both, and you're so young yet," she lectured. "Despite the manner in which Grandmother Cutler carried out her plans, she made the right decision for you at the time. The baby was with an excellent family. Now you're weighed down with a major burden."
"It's just like you to say something like that, Mother," I replied coldly, my eyes fixed on her so that she couldn't look away. "Christie is not a burden. She is my daughter, and I love her with all my heart. She is what matters most to me, and there is nothing I wouldn't do for her. How easy it was for you to agree to giving away your baby without thought of the consequences. You think it's the same for everyone. You were so selfish and still are. You, You, You! All you've ever thought about is yourself! Well, I consider Christie a blessing, and if anyone is a burden, it's you," I said, spitting the words at her.
She stared at me, and then she blinked her eyes and smiled in that childish manner she had so perfected.
"I won't be drawn into an ugly spat with you, Dawn. Not now, not ever. Think and do as you wish. I'm only giving you the best advice I can. If you don't want to follow it, then don't."
Despite herself, she gazed at Christie.
"The most horrible thing about all this," she mumbled, "is you've turned me into a grandmother before my time. Well," she said, stepping back and folding her arms firmly under her small bosom, "you can be sure I won't permit anyone to refer to me as Grandmother Cutler."
"Suit yourself," I said. "Believe me, you will be the one who will be missing out."
"Missing out?" She released a short, high laugh. "On what, feeding an infant that burps and fills its diapers? I had enough of that, thank you," she said.
