Page 9 of Summer Longing
“See,” Fern said with a pointed look at Elise. “That’s what happens when you don’t let things go. You turn into a Bianca.”
“Very funny,” Elise said.
The shop phone rang, and she reached for it. “Tea by the Sea, Elise speaking.”
“This is Ruth Cooperman. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I need Fern to come back to the house right away.”
“What’s the problem?” The last thing Elise wanted to think about was Ruth Cooperman at Shell Haven. She sighed impatiently. “Is the key not working? Sometimes the back door gets stuck in the heat.”
“The doors are not the problem. The problem is that someone left a baby on your front porch.”
Chapter Five
Ruth had not held a baby in almost thirty years.
Ruth guessed the infant—a girl, judging from her pink knit cap—was about two weeks old. She was small enough that Ruth would have been nervous handling her, and so she didn’t. Swaddled in a standard-issue hospital receiving blanket, the baby appeared to be no longer than Ruth’s forearm. Ruth left her in the car seat.
Whoever dropped the baby off at the house had also left a diaper bag filled with Pampers, two bottles, a few cans of Enfamil, and a pink carrying sling. Fortunately, she was asleep, and Ruth did not need to use any of the supplies. Fern Douglas would hopefully arrive before that changed.
Ruth took the car seat into the living room. She turned the air-conditioning on and sat on the edge of the couch. Someone had felt comfortable leaving the baby unattended, but Ruth couldn’t, in good conscience, leave her alone in the room. Truly, this town might be more than she had bargained for. It was one thing to leave keys in a mailbox. It was quite another to leave a baby on a front porch.
She stood and paced, looking at her phone. Shouldn’t Fern be here by now?
The baby stirred.Oh no—sleep. Sleep!
Her tiny rosebud mouth was puckering even though her eyes were still closed. And just like that, Ruth recalled her own newborn baby’s phantom sucking from long ago, how, even half asleep, her daughter would root around for her breast. It was all so primal, so different from the way everything else could be scheduled and tamed. Ruth had been shocked by it. She’d thought she could manage motherhood the way she’d planned her career; with enough discipline and hard work, things would run smoothly. She could keep it all under control. What no one told her, what perhaps she should have guessed ahead of time, was that becoming a mother was all about letting go of control.
She heard the back door open, then footsteps in the kitchen. Finally!
But it was not Fern Douglas. It was the unpleasant strawberry blonde from yesterday. She rushed into the room, her hair clinging to her forehead and neck in damp tendrils. “I got here as fast as I could,” she said, barely glancing at Ruth. Her eyes locked on the car seat. She approached it slowly, almost reverently, and knelt down, peering at the baby.
“And…you are?” Ruth said.
“Elise Douglas. Fern’s wife,” the woman said. “I’m sorry. We got off to a bad start yesterday.”
That was an understatement. But in the spirit of moving things along, Ruth was willing to let bygones be bygones. “Yes, well, there is a more immediate problem at hand. I guess your friend or whoever dropped her off here didn’t realize you rented out the house for the summer?” Ruth said. Elise did not respond. It was like Ruth wasn’t even in the room.
The baby stirred. Elise reached into the car seat and pulled the small bundle into her arms, murmuring something that Ruth couldn’t quite make out.
She shifted impatiently on her feet.
“Okay, well, you should probably…take her back to her house. I don’t mean to be rude, but I really would like to get settled,” Ruth said.
Elise finally looked at her. “I don’t know where to go. I don’t know whose baby this is.”
What?
The baby began to cry. At first, it was just a squawk, like a bird, but it quickly escalated into a wail. How could such a tiny thing make so much noise? There was something impossible to endure about a baby’s cry. As a mother herself, Ruth was hardwired to respond.
“Perhaps you should call Fern and see if she knows. Or, better yet, take her to the tea shop and discuss it there.”
Elise shook her head. “I’m sorry, Ms. Cooperman. I have to figure this out, obviously. But I can’t take the baby anywhere.”
“Well, you can’t keep her here.”
“What if the person who left her here comes back? Just give me time to sort this out.” She looked down at the baby and then back at Ruth. “And please—don’t mention this to anyone.”
Who would she mention it to? Ruth thought. And why the secrecy? She sighed and looked out the window. It was a gorgeous day.
