Page 17 of Summer Longing
“No! Please. Don’t call Fern. Just…can you sit for a minute? Just…oh God, she won’t stop crying.”
The baby’s face was bright red. The sound was unbearable. Ruth remembered sitting in the kitchen at the house in Cherry Hill holding a wailing Olivia and feeling completely helpless. She’d called her own mother on many occasions, looking for guidance in deciphering the needs of her fussy infant. The words of wisdom, the small fixes, were coming back to her in a rush.
“She must have gas,” Ruth said. “You need to change her position. Motion helps sometimes. Here—let me have her.”
Ruth lifted the baby, surprised by how light she was. It was easy to forget how small babies were, how utterly helpless. She had forgotten too, that unique baby scent that even now, in her state of irritation, elicited a primal caretaker urge. She stood, placed the baby against her shoulder, and rubbed her back in small circles alternating with firm pats. The crying continued; escalated even. Ruth walked into the living room, paced back and forth. Still no relief. She walked back to the kitchen, where Elise sat looking exhausted and panicked. Ruth kept her hands moving against the tiny back, not letting up the rhythm of rubbing and patting.
“Is this normal?” Elise said, raking her hand through her hair.
And then a burp so cartoonishly loud, they both looked at the baby in surprise.
The crying stopped.
“There you go,” Ruth murmured. The baby nestled against the base of her neck. Again, that distinct scent played on her senses. The baby was strange, yet utterly familiar. All Ruth’s maternal instincts, muscle memory, kicked in. And yet she had not been able to enjoy the times she held her own daughter. She remembered taking conference calls and typing memos with Olivia strapped across her chest in a sling. How eager she had been to hire a nanny and get back to work. She’d prided herself on not missing a beat but later realized she had not appreciated that first year of babyhood. And she could never get it back.
“I should put her down to sleep,” Elise said, standing and reaching for the baby.
Ruth handed her over. “Okay, but where are you—”
“I’m just going to put her in the spare room on the second floor. I have a bassinet.”
She swept out of the kitchen before Ruth could effectively protest.
Oh, dear. This would not do. This would not doat all.
She leaned against the counter, waiting for Elise to return. Her mind ticked through the various ways she could reason with Elise about staying out of the house without sounding heartless. Elise and Fern would just have to do their baby caretaking in their own place. There was no reason why that shouldn’t be possible.
Elise walked back into the kitchen, picked up the empty baby bottle, unscrewed the top, and started rinsing both in the sink. “Thanks for your help. Maybe that formula isn’t the best for her?” she said, reaching for the Palmolive.
“Elise, I don’t know what’s going on here, but you need to take the baby to your own place. Today.”
Elise shook her head. “There’s no room for her there. The upstairs of the tea shop—it’s a mess. We fixed up our bedroom area, but the quarters are small,” she said, sitting down at the table again.
“Aren’t you going to report this abandoned baby?”
Elise flinched. “I’d rather not look at her asabandoned. I think someone wasn’t willing or able to care for her properly and chose a new home for her.”
Ruth took a breath. “Elise, it’s not your responsibility. If you want help, I’ll go with you to the police—”
And then, to Ruth’s utter shock, Elise burst into tears. “I’ve been trying to have a baby for years!”
Oh my.
Ruth opened the cabinet and poured herself a glass of water. She was dehydrated. Last night’s indulgence had not left her in good condition for a morning like this.
“Ruth, you have to promise me you won’t tell anyone about the baby,” Elise said.
“Okay,” Ruth said slowly. The last thing she wanted was to get involved in other people’s dramas. “But I’m living in this house for the summer. So you and Fern are going to have to work something out on your own.”
Elise nodded. “You’re right. I have to go talk to Fern. She’s probably wondering where I’ve been all this time.”
She stood up, pushed her chair in neatly under the table, and turned for the door.
“Wait—you’re leaving? The baby is upstairs!”
“Can you just watch her for a bit? I can’t take her to the shop. Please. You’re good with her.”
“Elise, I’m sorry. I cannot be stuck in this house all morning with a baby. I have things to do—”
