Cracks in the Sidewalk(7)

Claire began to worry. She telephoned Charlie to ask if he’d heard anything from Jeffrey.

“Afraid not,” he said. “But I doubt he’d call me.”

Claire fed the children breakfast, read three stories, and dusted the living room furniture. When it was almost ten-thirty, she telephoned Maria Ramirez, a neighborhood babysitter, and asked for help. Claire got into her car and drove to Saint Barnabas Hospital. She walked into Elizabeth’s room, wondering how to bring up Jeffrey—but there he stood, unshaven and still wearing yesterday’s shirt.

“Hi,” he said, looking sheepish.

“Hi,” Claire answered, without showing her irritation. She crossed the room and planted a kiss on Elizabeth’s forehead.

“Guess what, Mom?” Elizabeth said. “JT thinks I might get to go home today.”

“Home?” Claire echoed. “Doctor Sorenson said that?”

“Well, actually, JT hasn’t spoken to her yet, but I’m sure she’ll agree. He says my color is good and I look well-rested.”

Jeffrey wrapped his arm around Elizabeth in that same possessive way he did years ago and smiled.

Claire lowered herself into the chair alongside the bed and replied, “You’re not going anywhere until Doctor Sorenson says so!”

“But, Mom,” Elizabeth stammered. “JT said the kids need me at home, and we can’t afford—”

Claire felt the muscles in her face grow hard.

“The kids are doing just fine,” she said. “And as your husband, JT should concern himself with your wellbeing, not the cost of it!”

“He’s worried about taking care of our whole family—”

“Well, JT won’t have to reach into his pocket for a dime,” Claire said in an icy voice. “We’ll pay whatever your insurance doesn’t cover.” When a look of satisfaction slid onto his face, she added, “Providing he does not discuss money with you again while you’re in the hospital.”

“Mother McDermott,” JT spat, “I think you’ve misunderstood my intention. I certainly didn’t intend to upset either you or Liz. I simply thought I should mention—”

“Well,” Claire said gruffly, “I suggest you don’t mention it again!”

JT gave her a look of disdain, then said he had to get going since it was long past time for him to open the store.

Once he left, Elizabeth fell asleep and Claire studied her daughter. Elizabeth had never looked worse. Her fingers were puffed out like fat sausages, and her body was nearly twice its normal size. Her dry, crackled skin looked more yellow than pink. Claire knew Elizabeth was sick—sicker perhaps than anyone realized.





Claire McDermott


Many people believe the love shared by a man and woman is the most powerful on earth, and in some ways it probably is. On the day Charlie and I were married I thought I’d never know anything sweeter; but once I felt our baby at my breast I realized how big a heart truly is.

I’m only one person; Charlie too. But Elizabeth is the best of both of us. We loved her long before we saw the blue of her eyes and felt her tiny fingers locked onto ours, long before she looked up at us trusting we’d take care of her. When she was barely more than a flutter beneath my heart, I vowed that for as long as I had breath in my body I’d watch over her and keep her safe. Now she’s lying in a hospital bed, and I can’t do a thing to help her. I watch her suffer, and I suffer. Her pain is my pain.

It doesn’t matter how old Elizabeth gets, she’s still my baby. That’s why I had to choke back my rage when I saw Jeffrey hovering over her. Okay, he’s got financial troubles, but is he willing to sacrifice her health for a handful of dollars? The sorry truth is he’s a man who thinks the measure of money is greater than anything else life has to offer.

Liz is a lot like me—just give her a house full of kids and she’s happy. She loves babies. She’d have one every year if Jeffrey were willing, which he isn’t. Personally, I think that’s because he wants to keep her all to himself. He doesn’t even like sharing her with their children. The minute he gets home from the store, he expects her to put the kids to bed and sit beside him while he watches whatever he wants on television. When she decided to breast-feed David and Kimberly, he was visibly annoyed. He’d grouch and grumble every time she nursed one of those babies. That didn’t stop Elizabeth; she did it anyway.

I can still picture her creaking back and forth in that big rocking chair with a baby and a look of contentment settled on her face. Liz is a born mother, and she lives for her kids.

These days Jeffrey stays at the store hours after it’s closed, and when he gets home he’s like an angry bull. He snaps at anyone who crosses his path, especially Liz. I’ve tried talking to her about it, but she laughs it off. “You know JT,” she says. “He’s going through his usual pregnancy depression.”

I believe it’s more than that, but I won’t say anything to her. She’s got enough problems right now. All that weight she’s gained and the way she can’t remember to brush her own teeth, it worries me. It’s not at all like Liz. She’s one of the most together people you’ll ever meet. I know how much she wants this baby, so I’m hoping she can carry it to term—but I don’t know if that’s possible.