U Is for Undertow (Kinsey Millhone 21)

Contributing to the edgy cease-fire was the fact that Rain showed very little interest in nursing. Shelly had breast-fed Shawn until he was three, so she was an old hand at the process. Rain wouldn’t cooperate. She’d whip her head back and forth, mouth barely brushing the nipple. If she finally managed to latch on, she became agitated, arching her back and screaming, red-faced, her fists flailing. After a few days, Shelly had no patience for the feedings. At the first sign of trouble, she’d thrust the baby back at Deborah and turn her face to the wall. Rain went from being fussy to crying nonstop. Deborah knew she wasn’t getting enough to eat, but she wasn’t sure what to do.

Greg appeared at one point. “Is everything okay?”

“We’re fine. We have a few wrinkles to iron out, but it’s nothing to worry about.”

“Anything I can do?”

“Keep Shawn occupied, if you would.”

“Sure, no problem,” he said. “Any suggestions about how?”

Deborah had to bite her tongue. She already had her hands full and couldn’t stop to educate Greg about amusing a child. “Let me give you a few bucks and you can take him to the zoo.”

Greg frowned. “Did Shelly say it was okay?”

“She’s asleep. I’m sure she won’t object. You might also try the kiddy pool at the beach. He likes to wallow in the water playing hippopotamus. There are lots of other children. He’ll have fun.”

She put in a call to Dr. Erbe, a pediatrician she’d met at a cocktail party welcoming new members to the country club. She apologized for the imposition, not wanting to take advantage of their acquaintanceship to ask for free medical advice. She explained the problem as succinctly as she could. Dr. Erbe suggested waiting for a couple of more feedings before supplementing with formula. Maybe the baby would get the hang of it and all would be well. By then, Rain’s crying was relentless, pitched at a level that would drive any ordinary mortal insane.

With Shelly in such a vulnerable psychological state, Deborah was afraid she’d take out her frustrations on the baby. She finally made up four ounces of formula and fed Rain herself. Rain settled in to eat, taking the entire four ounces before falling asleep. She put the baby in her crib, which they moved into the sewing room down the hall so Shelly could rest undisturbed if the baby fretted in her sleep. Deborah could remember how attuned she’d been to Greg as a newborn, when any slight sound from the crib would have her on her feet and standing over him.

She peered into the guest room where she saw that Shelly was awake. “You can try the breast again when she wakes up. Dr. Erbe says some babies take a little longer catching on.”

“Who gives a shit?” Shelly said, and turned over on her side.

Deborah waited for a moment and when it was clear Shelly wasn’t going to volunteer another word, she went downstairs and cleaned up the breakfast dishes. Twenty minutes later, the baby started crying again. Deborah heard Shelly’s bare feet hit the floor and thump down the hall. Deborah dropped the flatware she was putting in the dishwasher and headed up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Shelly was leaning over the crib. “Goddamn it, shut the fuck up!”

She was just reaching for the baby when Deborah blocked her arm. “I’ll take care of her. You rest. Everything will be fine.”

“What do you know, you fuckin’ Pollyanna.”

Deborah knew better than to respond. Shelly had reverted to her old ways and any reassurances would be met with hostility.

Shelly stared at her darkly and finally turned on her heel. “Have at it, Deborah. You think you’re so smart, you do it.”

She went back into the guest room and shut the door.

Deborah picked up the baby and took her downstairs. She settled in the rocker, put a diaper across her shoulder, and laid the baby up against her, patting her gently until she erupted in a satisfying burp. Rain was quiet then. Deborah continued to pat her, humming, until the baby drifted off to sleep. She debated about returning her to her crib and thought better of it.

Still holding her, Deborah crossed to the wall-mounted phone in the kitchen and lifted the handset. She called Annabelle and gave her a brief account of what was going on. “I need a cradle so I can keep the baby downstairs with me during the day. Do you still have Michael’s on hand?”

“Sure. I set aside all the baby paraphernalia for the next garage sale. I’ve been letting it sit until I was sure I wasn’t going to opt for one more. Let me haul it out and dust it off. I’ll be there in a jiffy.”