Page 50 of Summer Longing
“Ruth,” she said.
To this day, Ruth could remember the way it felt when Ben Cooperman first touched her. It was an innocent handshake; well, considering what happened a few days later, maybe not entirely innocent. But she felt that handshake more deeply than any of the kisses or fumbling groping she’d experienced with the boys she’d dated in high school. It was a variation on a feeling she would have again and again that summer, the sense of understanding a moment’s importance as it was happening, a certainty that she would never feel that way again and that she would remember it for the rest of her life. She had been right.
Her phone rang, and she was relieved to have something to anchor her in the present. The past was the past. The town, because it was in so many ways unchanged, had a way of playing tricks on her mind, of collapsing the years between then and now so that there was no emotional buffer. She had never been one to look back, and she had no interest in starting now.
She wiped her sandy fingers on the outside of her tote before reaching inside to look at her phone. “Olivia?”
“Mom,” Olivia said. “I need you.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
The rash appeared overnight, marring the baby’s sweet face with angry red blotches. Elise could no longer put off taking her to a pediatrician.
Fern and Amelia had been telling her to go since the third day Mira had been in their care. Elise was just afraid to involve any outside authority.
“I have a friend in Truro,” Amelia said. “She’s one of us and it won’t be an issue.”
Elise was not sure what “one of us” meant, exactly. From Provincetown? Gay? Generally unconventional?
When she met Dr. Mary Brandt, Elise decided the answer was at least two of the above. She appeared to be in her sixties and had close-cropped white hair, thick glasses in black square frames, and an Australian accent. She wore clogs and a white medical coat over a blouse and a long denim skirt.
Elise did not know what Amelia had told Dr. Brandt about Mira’s origins, but the doctor did not ask. She went about weighing her and measuring her in a brisk, businesslike fashion. She asked Elise and Fern about Mira’s eating and sleeping habits, suggested adjusting her formula to one that might produce less gas, and pronounced the rash “baby acne.”
“It looks ugly, but it’s harmless,” Dr. Brandt said.
It went so smoothly, felt so natural, that Elise began to relax. And then the doctor said, “Amelia told me you’re in the process of adoption.”
Elise froze. She had assumed Amelia had said nothing.
“Very early in the process,” Fern said quickly.
“Do you know if she had a hep B vaccination at birth?”
Fern and Elise looked at each other. “Would a hospital do that automatically?” Fern said.
“Typically.”
Elise did not know for sure if Mira had even been born in a hospital. The white blanket with the pink and blue stripes seemed like a hospital-issue receiving blanket. But the simple fact was she didn’t know for sure and therefore couldn’t say. “I can try to find out,” Elise said lamely.
“She will need her DTaP, Hib, and RV in a month, so on your way out, make an appointment. And in the meantime, don’t worry about the rash. She’s still a beauty.” Dr. Brandt smiled at Mira and gave her a little wave.
Elise realized now the value of that beaded anklet with the birth date on it. If she’d had to guess about Mira’s age, she wouldn’t have been able to make accurate decisions about her medical care. She felt with renewed certainty that the baby had been loved and that she had not been recklessly abandoned on their doorstep.
Fern was silent as they walked back to the car.
“Well, that went okay,” Elise said uneasily. Fern didn’t respond.
Elise buckled Mira into the backward-facing infant car seat, then climbed into the front passenger seat. Fern waited until they were on the road before saying, “This is not okay.”
“What? You didn’t like Dr. Brandt?” Elise knew that wasn’t what she meant.
“We have no legal right to be making medical decisions.”
“What’s the harm? Do you think a state agency wouldn’t give her those vaccinations? You’re focusing on the wrong thing. We’re being responsible and taking care of her. No one would do anything differently. And if her mother had a philosophical objection to vaccinations, I guess she could have written a note.”
“That’s absurd.”
“Is it? She left us clues. She didn’t make us guess her age. The blanket she arrived with is clearly a hospital blanket. Mira wasn’t born in the wild somewhere. And the more I think about all of these things, the more I know that our doorstep wasn’t randomly chosen.”
