Grievous Sin. Faye KellermanЧитать онлайн книгу.
all for it.”
“Sexist.”
“Parentist. I wouldn’t want my boys to be cops, either.” He ran his hand over his face. “God, this is just hell! What’s keeping the others? How much blood could Rina possibly need? Maybe I should look for them.”
He started to rise, but Marge pushed him back.
“Don’t spin your wheels, Pete. Stay here in case someone has some news for you.”
“I can’t believe this is happening.” Decker’s stomach juices were an ocean of nausea. “What’s taking them so goddamn long?”
He bounced up and began to pace. Marge didn’t try to stop him. At loose ends herself, she picked up a hospital magazine on parenting and absently flipped through the pages. All these pictures of smiling parents holding their newborn tykes. It made her feel very old and very single. She read an article on infant jaundice, learned more about the liver and bilirubin then she ever wanted to know. She had just about read the periodical cover to cover when Cindy returned, sporting a wide grin. Pete didn’t even notice her. Too busy flattening the carpet nap.
“What’s up, kiddo?” Marge asked.
“God, she’s huge!”
Decker stared at Cindy. It took him a moment to realize where he was. “Who’s huge?”
“Your daughter, Daddy. She’s at least twice the size of any of the other kids in the nursery. And she’s definitely the most alert—eyes wide open. You want to see her?”
“Now that sounds like a good idea,” Marge said.
Decker shook his head. “I don’t want the others to come back and find me gone.”
“So I’ll wait here,” Marge said.
Decker shook his head. “I just can’t … not now. Not … feeling the way I do.”
“I understand, Daddy. I just wanted you to know how great she’s doing.”
Decker felt tears in his eyes and rubbed them away. “Thank you, princess. I appreciate it.”
Cindy stuck her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “You want to see her, Marge? She’s in Nursery J.”
“I think I should wait with your dad.”
“No, go ahead, Marge,” Decker said. “Tell me she’s beautiful.”
“She is beautiful,” Cindy said.
“No, Pete, I’ll wait with you,” Marge said. “Watch you run a track in the carpet.”
“It’s better than punching out walls,” Decker said.
“Infinitely,” Marge said.
Cindy tapped her foot. “Well, if I’m not needed, maybe I’ll go back and visit the baby again. If the nurse’ll let me near her. She’s real weird!”
“In what way?” Marge asked.
“Actually, it was sort of my fault. I was so excited to see the baby. She’s right in the front of the window. I was playing with her, tapping on the glass. Then all of a sudden she started crying … all alone.” Cindy pouted. “So I went inside the nursery and asked if like, maybe someone could pick her up. For no reason, the nurse started screaming at me that she wasn’t anyone’s personal nanny, and if I didn’t leave instantly, I was going to infect all the babies. She made me feel like Typhoid Cindy. I wasn’t even near them!”
“Nurses sometimes get a little territorial,” Marge said.
“Yeah, you should have heard her rant when I asked if I could hold my sister. She started interrogating me: Just who was I, and what was my business with the baby anyway?”
“They have to be cautious, Cindy.”
“Yeah, I know. That’s why I figured if Dad came and said I was okay …” Cindy shrugged. “It’s not the right time. I’ll just go back and play with her through the window … if Marie doesn’t boot me away.”
“Marie’s the nurse?”
“Ms. Prune Face in white.”
Decker came over to them. “Ms. Prune Face in white?”
Cindy said, “The nurse who gave me a hard time about holding my sister.”
“What?” Decker said. “When was this?”
“Just a moment ago.”
“Why’d she give you a hard time?”
“Because she’s a weirdo.”
Marge said, “Cindy went into the nursery without being suited up. The nurse might have overreacted a little.”
“I wasn’t in the actual part where the babies were.”
“Cindy, please don’t make waves,” Decker said. “Not now, hon, okay?”
Cindy nodded and kissed her father’s cheek. “You really should see your new daughter, Daddy. She’s beautiful—all pink and bundled. And she has a loud, healthy cry. I could hear it through the window.”
“Wonderful,” Marge muttered.
“Keep an eye on her for me,” Decker said. “Just …”
“I know,” Cindy said. “I’ll keep it muzzled until we’re all back to normal. I can swim with that.”
Magda was carrying an armload of cellophane-wrapped snacks. Sammy was sandwiched between his brother and grandfather, his head resting against the old man’s side. Stefan had his arm around Sam’s waist. Sam’s complexion was pasty; his gait was slow and clumsy. Decker ran over and swooped the boy in his arms.
“Good Lord, what’s wrong?”
“I alone gave blood,” Sammy whispered. “That’s because I’m a manly, manly man.”
Decker smiled. Since his bar mitzvah, whenever there was a task requiring some physical strength, Sammy would always volunteer to do it, claiming that now he was a manly man. Decker placed his stepson on the couch.
“If you’re Dracula, I already gave at the office,” Sammy said.
“Very funny.” Decker brushed chestnut-colored bangs off the boy’s forehead. “What took you so long?”
“They wouldn’t let him go for a half hour,” Stefan said. “I think they really didn’t believe he was seventeen.”
“He isn’t seventeen!” Decker heard the raw anxiety in his voice. “Why’d you let him do it?”
“They had no choice,” Sammy said. “I insisted.”
“Nu, the boy has a mind of his own,” Stefan said.
“He needs to eat things with sugar, Akiva,” said Magda. “He don’t drink. Tell him to drink.”
Decker propped up his son’s head. “Drink, Sammy.”
“I’m full.”
“Then eat cookie,” Magda insisted.
“It’s not kosher,” Sammy pronounced.
“It’s made with vegetable shortening—”
“It doesn’t have hasgacha.”
Decker said, “I don’t care if it’s made out of pig’s feet, Sam, eat the damn cookie! Got it?”
“Yes, sir.” Sammy took the cookie and began to nibble on the edge. His face had suddenly regained a smidgen of color, and he seemed calm. Decker wondered if his sudden stern command had given the kid a sense that he was in control.
Stefan said, “We buy a pack of cards. Jake and I play poker.