The Baby Snatchers (20 page)

A sudden wave of anger stained Marjorie’s
cheeks. She sat forward in her chair. “What
I
did? You
ungrateful wretch! I did it all for
you!
I don’t need to
re-explain the reasons why. All I can hope is that one day you’ll
look back and accept I did what I thought was best.”

Georgie stared at her mom and realized that
no matter what Georgie said, her mother would never understand. As
far as Marjorie was concerned, being a teenaged Mom was tantamount
to bringing your life to an end. It was clear Georgie would never
convince her otherwise.

With another sigh, she adjusted the baby in
her arms and made a move to leave. She was halfway across the room
when she remembered her mom hadn’t answered her initial question.
The nerves rushed back again. She stopped and turned and stared at
her mother again. “You haven’t answered my question.”

Marjorie lowered her gaze to her hands which
were now clenched in her lap. It was a long moment before she
looked up. “Which one?”

Georgie’s gaze didn’t waver. “You know which
one.”

“We get so many mothers through these doors,
Georgina. Every day, every week, every month, every year. An
endless procession of wannabes and not so wannabes—young girls and
women who have no idea how to care for a baby. And the few who
actually want to learn what it takes to be a mother leave here with
no support, no framework with which to succeed. They come in,
pregnant and wasted on drugs and their innocent babies suffer.” Her
voice turned harsher.

“They give birth to these children who are
born addicted to drugs or alcohol or both and even though these
innocent babies will come through the withdrawal and will rid their
system of the drugs, the permanent damage their mother’s lifestyle
has caused will never go away. They’ll struggle for the rest of
their lives: in school, in social situations. They’ll struggle to
control their anger; they’ll struggle to fit in. More often than
not, they’ll grow up to be addicts like their mothers and the
vicious cycle starts all over again.”

Her mother’s color was high and her breath
came fast. Her voice had risen, along with her anger. Georgie
frowned in concern, her earlier upset forgotten. “Mom, are you all
right?”

“Of course I’m all right,” Marjorie snapped.
“It’s just that I get so worked up about the wrongness of it all.
Not one of these women are fit and proper mothers. They should
never be allowed to fall pregnant, let alone give birth.”

Georgie remained silent, although she had
some sympathy for her mother’s position. Every day, the nurses of
Ward Seven dealt with the effects of babies born to drug-addicted
mothers. It wasn’t a nice sight, but the staff didn’t have the
right to play God.

“It’s not for us to say who should be
allowed to be a mother and who shouldn’t,” she finally murmured.
“Some of these girls want to do the very best they can by their
babies. When they hold their newborn in their arms, it’s like the
reality of having a child finally sets in. They want to do more to
be worthy, get clean and offer their baby a better chance at
life.”

“It’s too bad they didn’t think like that
the moment they fell pregnant. It would have been a whole lot
better for their babies if they’d done more to get clean while they
were pregnant than waiting until afterwards, when the poor child’s
left with lifelong disabilities.”

The bitterness in Marjorie’s voice took
Georgie by surprise. She understood the anguish that came with the
reality of working with drug-addicted babies, but she’d never felt
bitter toward their mothers. If anything, she felt sorry for the
often young girls who gave birth to the children on Ward Seven.
Georgie couldn’t help but wonder about the adults in these girls’
lives and where they’d let them down, and why.

If what her mother had just revealed was
true, Georgie could have also found herself as a teenager with a
newborn, all alone. She still couldn’t believe her father had
voiced such an ultimatum, even to her mom, and she was grateful she
hadn’t known about it at the time. She didn’t want to think what
choice she would have made under those circumstances. As it was,
her mother had managed to convince her on her own, to give the baby
up.

“Some of these girls have had a pretty tough
life, Mom. It’s not our place to judge,” she said quietly, patting
Nathan rhythmically on the back.

“Don’t give me excuses! I can’t abide them,”
her mother retorted. “We’re all given choices in this life. Some of
us take the easy way out, that’s all it is.”

Georgie frowned, a little disconcerted at
her mother’s unforgiving attitude and she couldn’t help but wonder
how many of Marjorie’s words were directed at her own flesh and
blood. “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?” she said.

“No, I don’t. We’re lucky to live in this
country. Free education, free healthcare; low unemployment and
opportunities galore. As far as I’m concerned, there’s no excuse to
turn to alcohol and drugs. It’s a coward’s way out. To bring an
innocent child into the mix is an abomination and one I’ll never
condone. If we are to allow these girls to give birth, they should
never be permitted to keep them.” Once again, Marjorie’s breath
came fast and her face was flushed a dark red.

Georgie stared at her mother like she was a
stranger. All of a sudden, she was transported back in time and was
listening to the tirade that spewed forth from her mother’s lips as
she spoke to Georgie about her baby.

But it wasn’t Georgie her mother was talking
about now. It was the women in their care. Georgie had no idea
Marjorie felt so strongly about them. Now that she did, she felt
confused and more than a little alarmed.

In an effort to rationalize her mother’s
strong words, Georgie reminded herself how hard her mom had been
working lately, pulling extra shifts. Perhaps Marjorie’s cold
stance on the drug-addicted mothers was merely a response to being
tired and overworked. Everyone could get irrational when they were
sleep deprived. Besides, it wasn’t like this was really
personal—Georgie had never turned to drugs.

Nathan stirred for a second time against her
shoulder and she hurried to reassure him it was safe to return to
sleep. Tossing her mom a troubled look, she gave a brief nod of
farewell and quietly left the room.

“Hi, Daddy. Thanks for making time to see
me.”

Georgie leaned across the table of the
hospital cafeteria and forced herself to give her father a peck on
the cheek. Up until her mother’s recent revelations, Georgie would
have told anyone she and her father were close. After hearing how
strongly he’d been against her keeping her baby, she no longer knew
what to think.
What kind of loving parent could force their
child to make such a choice?

The fact that her mother had convinced her
to give up her baby, had driven a lifelong wedge between them.
Georgie loved and admired her mother for many things, but her
feelings weren’t without reservation. She’d been hurt irreparably
by her mother’s actions and even though most of the time she
accepted Marjorier had been acting in her best interests, it still
didn’t eradicate the pain. Now, she discovered her father had been
just as adamant that she give her child away. It was an awful jolt
to her equilibrium and it would take some time to come to terms
with what she’d learned.

Her gaze moved over him. He was well into
his sixties, but his tall bearing and athletic physique defied his
years. His thick white hair lent him an air of authority and
sophistication. Now, his blue eyes twinkled at her in delight. It
was obvious he hadn’t yet spoken to her mother.

“I always have time for my first born,” he
smiled. He slid a mug of coffee and a chocolate éclair toward her.
“I took the liberty of ordering for you.”

“You shouldn’t have. It’s way past lunch. I
shouldn’t be eating anything.”

He eyed her slim figure and shook his head.
“It looks to me like you don’t eat enough.”

“I eat plenty,” Georgie murmured. Before her
recent conversation with her mother, she would have been touched at
the obvious signs that he cared. Now, she just wanted to get the
meeting over with. As if reading her mind, her father reached for
his coffee and then said, “What is it you wanted to see me about,
honey?”

Georgie looked down at her hands where they
were twisted in her lap. She wasn’t ready to reveal to him that she
was now aware of his true feelings about her baby. She’d had enough
emotional upheaval for the day.

Until the recent conversation with her
mother, although she’d always sensed her father’s approval of her
decision to give her son up for adoption, he’d never come right out
and expressed his opinion on the subject. She needed time alone to
come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t as unconditionally
supportive and loving as she’d thought.

But now wasn’t the time or the place. She’d
sought him out to talk to him about her concerns about her mother.
Knowing there was nothing to do but come right out with it, she
took a deep breath and blurted out, “I’m worried about Mom. I think
she’s working far too hard. Do you think you could convince her to
take some time off?”

“Why? What happened?”

“Nothing happened as such, it’s just
something she said. I’m worried that she’s losing a little of her
patience and compassion and you know how important those things are
in our line of work.”

He shook his head. “Oh, I know, all right. I
don’t know how the two of you do it, caring for those people day
in, day out.”

“Daddy!” Georgie exclaimed, surprised at his
tone of voice. “They’re patients who need our help, like every
other patient in this hospital. You ought to know.”

“Of course I do, Georgie,” he hurried to
reassure her, patting her hand. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

She stared at him. Once upon a time she
would have believed him without question. Now she sought out the
truth of his statement in his eyes. He looked away. With a sigh,
she picked up her coffee mug and took a sip. It was hot and creamy
and sweet, just as she liked it. Pushing aside her disquiet, she
sighed in satisfaction. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“You’re welcome. It isn’t every day I
receive an invitation to afternoon tea from my daughter.”

“It wasn’t exactly an invitation to
afternoon tea,” Georgie grimaced. “I wanted to talk to you about
Mom.”

“Yes, that’s right. You think she’s working
too hard.”

“It’s not just that. Earlier today, we had a
conversation about the mothers on our ward. Mom made it clear that
she felt no sympathy for their plight. She became quite upset about
the whole thing and even implied the women shouldn’t be allowed to
have children or if they do, to keep them.”

Her father’s eyebrows rose in surprise, but
he remained silent. His lack of response alarmed her, but then made
an awful kind of sense. It reinforced what her mother had told her.
He was just as judgemental as his wife.

For all of Georgie’s life, her father had
been her rock. It was unsettling to discover her faith in him had
been grossly misplaced. Still, she needed reassurance; needed to
know her mother wasn’t a lost cause.

“Why would she work on a ward like that if
she really felt that way? It doesn’t make sense. I must have
misunderstood,” she added a little desperately, waiting for her
father to agree.

He shook his head slowly back and forth.
“Perhaps she simply cares too much? Did you ever think of it like
that? Sometimes when you really care what happens to someone, if it
doesn’t work out so well, it can leave you feeling disappointed,
like somehow they’ve let you down, like it’s their fault things
didn’t work out the way you’d hoped.” He reached over and brushed a
stray piece of hair out of her eyes and Georgie couldn’t help but
wonder if his words were directed at her.

“Your mom’s a remarkable woman, Georgie and
she’s devoted her life to the women and babies who come onto her
ward. It might be that, over the years, she’s distanced herself a
little from them emotionally for her own sake. Perhaps that’s the
only way she can cope. But don’t ever think she doesn’t care,
honey. Like I said, I think her problem is that she simply cares
too much.”

* * *

Georgie stared out of the large bay window
that took up most of one wall of her living room and thought again
about her mother. Her shift had ended hours ago and the night had
settled in, but despite her father’s reassurances, concern still
weighed heavily in her heart. Marjorie had seemed so adamant that
their patients shouldn’t be allowed to be mothers. The longer
Georgie thought about it, the more she was convinced her mother had
meant every word that she’d said—and that knowledge scared her to
death.

With her legs curled up beneath her on the
couch, she took another sip of her third vodka and lime, and
sighed. Just when the future seemed so full of exciting
possibilities in the form of one very sexy detective, life had
thrown her a curve ball.

She hadn’t heard from Cameron since his call
earlier that day and their promised date had yet to materialize.
She could only assume he’d been caught up at work. To make matters
worse, she’d been so taken aback over her mother’s attitude and the
revelations about her dad, she’d forgotten Marjorie hadn’t answered
her question about the disconcertingly high number of newborns who
had apparently died on their ward.

Had her mom become so sidetracked by her
feelings about the down-and-out mothers that she’d simply forgotten
to address Georgie’s question, or
had she employed
deliberate evasive action?

The second possibility settled heavily in
Georgie’s heart and filled her belly with unease. She’d hoped her
father would calm her fears, but his explanation seemed
oversimplified and after what her mother had revealed, she’d never
quite trust his judgement again.