“Certainly, Doctor.” When Hazel paused, Nerea squirmed in her arms and started to whimper. Hazel bounced the baby a bit more vigorously. “She is ready for her milk.”
“I’ll walk with you,” Jim said. He fell into step with her, and they started in the direction of the kitchen. “I don’t know what of that conversation you understood.”
“Not much,” Hazel admitted. “But I believe whatever you said pleased the priest.”
“Padre Cavallero asked if we might deliver Jakinda and the others—the other deceased from their village—back to Santa Rosa for burial.”
“And what did you tell him?”
“I told him we would bring them tomorrow.”
“Oh.” Hazel blinked. “That was very considerate of you. Does the hospital often perform such a service?”
“Not typically.” Jim shrugged, cramming his hands into his coat pockets.
She looked at him thoughtfully but didn’t say anything more.
When they came to the kitchen, Alona looked up from the dough she was kneading and smiled. “Hola, Hazel. Hola,mi amor.” She said the last sentence in a high singsong voice, leaving no doubt that she was speaking to Nerea.
Hazel brought the baby close so Alona could make faces at her, speaking words Jim couldn’t translate, but by her tone and the lilt of her voice, he understood perfectly. Baby speak was a universal language.
“The milk is warmed,” Alona said to Hazel.
Seeing Alona’s hands were covered in dough, Hazel gave the baby to Jim and went to where a pan of milk sat on the preparation table beside a baby bottle.
Jim tried to mimic her bouncing motion, but he must have bounced either too softly or too hard. Nerea started to wail.
Alona gave Jim a disappointed look, then started talking to the baby again, babbling in her high baby voice.
Nerea’s crying stopped, and she settled, grabbing the lapel of Jim’s coat with her fist and putting it into her mouth.
Hazel dipped a spoon into the milk, dabbing a drop onto the inside of her wrist. She must have approved of the temperature, because she poured the milk into the bottle and attached a rubber feeding nipple. But instead of taking the baby, Hazel thanked Alona, bid her farewell, and motioned for Jim to follow her from the kitchen.
In the laundry, Hazel spread a flannel blanket over a folding table. She took the baby from Jim, and with expert movements, she wrapped Nerea up inside until only her head was uncovered. Last, Hazel gave her the bottle, swaying a bit from side to side as the baby drank. She cooed softly, holding her tightly.
As Jim watched the tender moment, he felt a pang. Telling her the next part would be difficult.
“Perhaps you heard padre Cavallero speak of Nerea’s aunt, Jakinda’s sister.”
She glanced up at him and returned her gaze to the baby. “I didn’t fully understand what he said.” She looked nervous and swallowed.
“She is a widow, her children grown. The priest assured us she is very kind.” He touched the small of her back. “Nerea will be well cared for. She will be loved.”
Hazel didn’t look up. “And we take Nerea to her aunt tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
She nodded, still keeping her face turned downward.
“Hazel?” he asked. “Are you all right?”
“Of course.” She looked up at him and forced a smile.
Jim could see the tension in her eyes. He knew she cared for the baby, and he feared bidding Nerea farewell would be difficult for her.
Hazel excused herself to put the baby to sleep. She held Nerea close, humming a lullaby and walking slowly down the passageway.
As Jim watched her leave, he hoped he’d made the right decision, that visiting Santa Rosa, attending Jakinda’s funeral, and meeting Nerea’s aunt would soothe the hurt he saw in Hazel’s eyes instead of add to her grief. He realized there was nothing he wouldn’t do if it might take away her pain.