Motherhood Is Murder

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Bruce and I sat on the couch, each holding a tumbler of whiskey. We heard sirens making their way down the street. I was shaking uncontrollably and Bruce kept telling me to drink the whiskey. I couldn’t make myself do it.

As the sirens screamed closer, Laurie stirred in her bucket. She opened one eye and peered up at me.

Go back to sleep, I prayed.

The second eye opened and both stared at me.

I froze, hoping my statue stance might bore her back to sleep.

Now her mouth opened to match both eyes.

I cringed.

Laurie screamed fiendishly loud as though she were being poked with hot needles.

Bruce looked at her curiously. I picked her up and nestled her into my neck as the sirens came to a halt under Bruce’s window. He stood and crossed the room, ready to buzz the EMTs up.

Laurie’s cries replaced the noise of the sirens. It felt as if there were an ambulance in the room with us. I cooed, rocked, bounced, and did everything I could think of. Her screaming wouldn’t stop. I knew what she wanted.

How could I nurse her here and right now?

The EMTs, two guys in black uniforms, entered the condo and went down the hall with Bruce. Momentarily alone, I dug out a blanket from my backpack and searched for a private space to nurse Laurie.

The condo was all open space and windows.

Laurie continued to howl. I selected a chair and strategically placed it with its back to the hallway and facing a corner of the living room instead of a window. I wrapped the blanket around myself and snuggled Laurie under it, trying my best to nurse her with a modicum of modesty. She was immediately silenced.

I could hear voices down the hall. Every inch of me, except the part physically attached to the baby, wanted to be a fly on the wall of the guest bedroom. From the commotion, it sounded like they were giving CPR.

She couldn’t be dead.

That was impossible. No one her age just lies down feeling sick to her stomach and dies. Do they?

God. Please let Celia be all right.

Helene had probably been poisoned. Could Celia have been poisoned? By whom?

Uh-oh!

Anxiety crept through my chest.

Bruce and I were the only ones here. Could he have given her something?

Maybe while I was on the phone? He was downstairs all that time.

No! She was sick before that.

What about the salmon? I was the only one that ate it, though.

Unless Celia had tasted some before I came.

If I was poisoned, too—could I poison little Laurie through my breast milk?

Suddenly it was hard to breathe. Did my stomach hurt?

It did!

Was it just me? Was it hypochondria?

Focus on your stomach, Kate! Does it really hurt?

I felt nauseous.

Jesus, Bruce wouldn’t poison Celia and me in his own home, would he? Why hadn’t he eaten any salmon, for crying out loud! Why had I eaten it?

I pulled my breast from Laurie. She attempted to latch on again. I pulled the nursing bra into place. Laurie whimpered, then cried out.

Well, she wouldn’t die from crying, but I couldn’t risk poisoning her.

I jumped up and hurried down the hallway. Thankfully the motion soothed Laurie and she quieted down.

Bruce greeted me with dark eyes. “It doesn’t look good.”

“Is she . . . ?”

One EMT was crouched over Celia, while the other rose and barked something into a walkie-talkie secured on his suspender.

Bile was building in my throat. I felt my blood rush to my toes.

The EMT watched me. “Ma’am?”

I handed Laurie to him and rushed to the bathroom. I got sick in the toilet.

The EMT stood in the doorway of the bathroom. “Can I get you anything?”

From my position on the floor, I watched as another pair of boots sped into the bedroom.

“She said she was feeling sick. She just went to lie down,” I said, holding my head in my hands.

The EMT nestled Laurie in one arm and ran a wash-cloth under the faucet. He handed me the cold cloth. “We have to get her to emergency, she’s in critical condition.”

“The owner, the guy, Bruce . . . his wife was poisoned last week. Could Celia have been poisoned?”

“It’s difficult to say at this point, ma’am.”

Laurie looked amazingly content in his arms.

“I ate some salmon here. I was the only one who ate it. I didn’t see Celia eat anything and Bruce didn’t either. Could I have been poisoned?”

I was half expecting him to laugh. I wanted him to tell me I was being irrational. Instead a grave look crossed his face and he pulled a flashlight from his breast pocket. He shone the light into my eyes.

My throat was dry and breathing was suddenly difficult.

The EMT wrapped his fingers around my wrist and remained silent as he took my pulse.

Voices drifted in from the hallway. I heard sharp commands being tossed back and forth, but was unable to make anything out. A stretcher carrying Celia floated past the open bathroom door.

My tongue felt like it was thickening and stuck to the roof of my mouth.

“Oh, God, if I’ve been poisoned, what about my daughter? I just nursed her.”

The EMT nodded calmly and looked at Laurie snuggled into his arm. “I think we need to take you both into emergency. We’ll get your stomach pumped and put the baby in observation. Is there anyone I can call for you?”

The room seemed to do a 360 around me. I pressed my hands against the floor for stability as I spurted out Jim’s cell phone number.

The medic told me to remain seated, then took Laurie out to the hallway. I heard frantic whispers and then the other EMT poked his head in. “Don’t worry, ma’am, we’re going back down to get the stretcher and take care of you in a jiffy.” He disappeared.

His hurried speech was followed by an eerie silence. I waited for what seemed like a long time, even though I knew it could be only a few minutes at the most.

My little Laurie, my love! Please, God, don’t let her be poisoned.

Panic rose in my chest and my body was wracked with sobs.

Bruce poked his head into the bathroom. “Kate, are you all right?”

I couldn’t make eye contact with him. It took all my effort to shake my head.

“Were you close to Celia?” Bruce’s confusion showed through his tone.

I shook my head again and sobbed.

Bruce tapped nervously at the doorway frame. “Right. Right. It still is very upsetting.”

I met his gaze. “The salmon, Bruce.”

Bruce took a step back as though I’d punched him. “What? You can’t think . . . you think the salmon was . . . bad? It was as fresh as—”

“Not bad! Poison! Helene was poisoned. Celia’s in critical condition. I ate the salmon and now I’m sick.”

“You can’t think . . . Kate! I prepared the salmon myself.”

“I’m sure you did!” I spat.

“Kate, I swear there was nothing wrong with the salmon. I didn’t kill Helene or Celia. You can’t seriously think that.”

Just then one of the EMTs pressed his way past Bruce. “Excuse us, sir.”

The other EMT laid the stretcher across the floor straddling the bathroom and the hallway. “Okay, ma’am, easy does it. Just lie down here.”

“Where’s my baby?” I sobbed.

“Don’t worry, ma’am, we’ve secured her in the ambulance. Your husband is on his way to the hospital.”

I crawled onto the stretcher and felt myself being suspended in midair. I glanced at Bruce. He looked as pale as Celia had. Only he was standing on his own and alive.

The EMTs paused at the front door, adjusting their grips on the stretcher. Bruce looked down at me. “Kate, I swear it. I swear the food was fine.”

I simply moaned.

One of the EMTs answered for me. “Sir, we have to get her to the hospital.”

The urgency in his voice caused Bruce to step back and succeeded in sending me into another panic. Tears welled in my throat and my mind was on Laurie.

Please, God, no matter what happens to me, please let Laurie be okay.

A vision of Jim raising Laurie alone sent another shock wave through me. My stomach clenched violently.

Although the EMTs descended the three flights of steps smoothly, I still managed to feel guilty about my weight. My fat butt was causing them to move cautiously down the steps, probably delaying emergency treatment that could save Laurie’s and my life.

When they pushed the stretcher into the ambulance, I saw Laurie. She was nestled in a see-through plastic crib, much like the one she’d been in at the hospital only a few short weeks ago when she was born. The EMTs had wrapped her in the blanket I had used to shield myself when I nursed her and she seemed content.

I wanted desperately to hold her, but I was strapped down into mobile mode. The ambulance lurched forward. One of the EMTs remained in the back with us. He hovered over Laurie and smiled. “Her color looks good. Her heart rate is steady. I think she’s going to be fine.”

His comments settled my nerves a bit, but I still felt tears spilling out of my eyes. The ride to the hospital was short, and somehow the fact that the driver hadn’t put the sirens on did much to calm me.

We couldn’t be in such bad shape if they didn’t use the sirens, could we?

“Where’s Celia?” I asked.

“The other team went on ahead of us,” he said.

When we arrived at the hospital, Laurie was attended to first. A pediatrician conferred with one of the EMTs as they hovered over her crib. Jim suddenly appeared.

“Jim!” I practically screamed from the stretcher.

“Honey!” He rushed over to me and embraced me. “What happened? How are you feeling?”

“Terrible. My stomach is killing me. I got sick, but they’re still going to have my stomach pumped! Celia’s in critical condition. Helene was poisoned—”

“Shhh. Hold on, honey. I’m having a hard time following. Who is Celia?”

A nurse appeared at my side. “Mrs. Connolly, I’m going to take you in now.”

Jim looked panicked. “Wait, I—”

“Stay with Laurie, please!”

Jim nodded and looked solemn. Tears streamed down my cheeks.