The Family Gathering (Sullivan's Crossing #3)(95)

She went again two days later. No one answered the door and she left disappointed, so she went back the very next day. She knocked and she could hear Sam crying so she stayed at the door. She had cookies this time and a couple of new teething rings for Sam. She knocked again and again; Sam continued to cry.

She’d played this scenario in her mind but she thought she was just kidding herself, that it was never going to happen, but what was she to do if she found him hurt or neglected? She wasn’t the child welfare department. But she would call the social worker or the police, if she had to, and that would guarantee that Mrs. Jergens would never let her in the door again.

She knocked again and the door swung open. “Mrs. Jergens!” she gasped. The woman looked bloody awful and was leaning on a walker. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m having a hard day.”

“Let me help with Sam,” Sierra said, pushing her way gently past the older woman and walking into an extremely messy house. “Where’s Sandy?” Sierra asked on her way to the bedroom where Sam’s crib was kept.

“Who knows,” Mrs. Jergens said.

Sierra thought about that walker. How do you carry a baby with a walker? And if you need a walker, does that mean that without the use of it you could fall? Hurting yourself and the baby?

Sam was sitting up in his crib, crying pitifully, his face wet with tears and snot. “Oh, sweet boy, what’s wrong, huh? Come here, it’s okay, come here...” She lifted him into her arms and held him close. She kissed his neck. He didn’t smell very good. And he was wet. “Let’s get you fixed up. Are you hungry? We can fix that, too, yes, we sure can.” She cooed to Sam as she put him on the changing table—a rickety changing table—and took off his sagging, soggy diaper. “Oh, honey, that’s better. Let’s clean that up and get you comfortable.”

Sierra cleaned his bottom and put some diaper rash ointment on him. She cleaned his face with a fresh wipe, put a new dry diaper on him and a shirt, though she couldn’t find a clean one. Or maybe it was just an old, stained shirt, but she didn’t think so. With Sam on her hip, she went back to the living room. Sierra looked around—the kitchen was a mess of dirty dishes and glasses, shoes and clothing and other debris such as magazines, food wrappers, disposable diapers rolled up and taped closed, empty soda cans and all the rudiments of living scattered everywhere. Mrs. Jergens’s medication sat on the table beside the couch. Not exactly babyproof. Thank goodness Sam wasn’t walking yet.

“Mrs. Jergens, he has a diaper rash. It looks kind of bad. What’s going on? Where’s Sandy?”

“She said she needed a break, asked me for forty dollars and left.”

“Good Lord!”

“Two days ago,” Mrs. Jergens added.

“My gosh, how did you manage?”

“It wasn’t exactly easy,” she said. “And now I’m in so much pain from lifting and carrying the baby yesterday I can hardly move today.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” she asked.

“I was fine. I thought she’d come back. Just take him. Take him,” she said with a wave of her hand. “He won’t stop crying, anyway.”

Sierra was stunned for a second. Then her heart began to pound. Then she felt genuine terror. “And so in a couple of weeks you’ll change your mind again? And come without warning to snatch him away again?”

“I doubt it,” she said drily.

“Or you’ll find another cousin...”

“Definitely not that,” she said.

Sierra thought about it for a second. She wondered if she just snatched Sam with the clothes on his back, if she could get away and never be found. And have a baby without Connie?

She prayed. God, I have never in my life needed You this much. God, I am powerless. This is in Your hands.

She pulled out her cell phone and dialed her brother Cal. He didn’t pick up. She texted him 911 and he called her back directly.

“Sierra?” he asked, worry in his voice.

“Cal, I came to Fairplay to visit Sam and found Mrs. Jergens in a terrible fix. Her caregiver and helper has run out on her, her house is upside down, she’s in too much pain to pick up the baby and she told me to just take him.”

“Do not,” Cal said emphatically. “Can you call the social worker?”

“I didn’t think to take her number.” She lowered her phone. “Mrs. Jergens, do you have Jeanne Blasette’s phone number?” Mrs. Jergens poked around in her purse and produced the card. “I have the number,” Sierra said.

“Give it to me,” Cal said. “I’ll call. Don’t take the baby home. Wait there for me. I just don’t want anyone to ever imply that you took him.”

“Can you hurry?” she asked with tears in her voice. “I don’t know if he’s okay. He’s just lying on my shoulder...”

“Do you need an ambulance?” Cal asked in a breathless voice. She could tell he was on the move. She heard his car door slam and the engine of his car start.

“Let me find out from Mrs. Jergens what he’s eaten. I’ll call an ambulance if I need one.”

Cal got the address from Sierra, said he was on his way and disconnected.

“The only person needs an ambulance is me,” Mrs. Jergens said.