Chapter 4 - THE BABY WITH THE BLUE BLANKET
Leah woke beneath white lights.
For several seconds, she did not remember where she was.
Then pain returned.
A deep ache pulled across her abdomen.
Her throat felt dry.
Her arms felt heavy.
And her stomach felt terrifyingly empty.
“The baby.”
Her voice barely came out.
Mae appeared beside the bed.
“He’s okay.”
Leah closed her eyes.
Relief crashed through her so hard she began crying.
“Where is he?”
“Nursery observation.”
“Why?”
“He had a rough few minutes.”
Mae touched her shoulder.
“But he’s breathing on his own.”
“I want him.”
“You will.”
“Now.”
“Leah.”
“I want my son.”
Mae looked toward the door.
That look brought every fear back.
“What happened?”
“You had an emergency cesarean.”
“I know.”
“Your placenta separated.”
“You lost a significant amount of blood.”
Leah swallowed.
“Did Nathan come?”
Mae hesitated.
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
“With Doreen.”
Leah turned her face away.
Of course.
“What did they sign?”
Mae’s eyes sharpened.
“You saw that?”
“Before the elevator closed.”
“What did it look like?”
“A blue folder.”
Mae’s jaw tightened.
“Family placement documents at Briar Glen are blue.”
Leah’s chest constricted.
“So while I was bleeding, my husband was signing custody papers?”
“I don’t know what he signed.”
“Find out.”
“I will.”
Leah tried to sit.
Pain shot across her abdomen.
Mae pressed the bed control.
“Slowly.”
“I need my baby.”
“I know.”
“What did they name him?”
Mae smiled faintly.
“They didn’t.”
Leah looked at her.
“Good.”
“His chart says Baby Boy Carver.”
Leah pressed a hand to her chest.
She and Nathan had argued about names for months.
Doreen wanted Theodore.
Nathan preferred Thomas.
Leah had secretly loved the name Noah.
She had not told Doreen because Doreen would find some reason to dislike it.
“I want to call him Noah.”
Mae nodded.
“Noah.”
Leah closed her eyes.
“My son’s name is Noah.”
Forty minutes later, Mae wheeled the bassinet into the room.
Leah saw him.
Everything else disappeared.
He was tiny.
Pink.
Wrapped beneath a pale blue blanket.
Dark hair covered his head.
His face looked impossibly serious.
Leah reached for him.
Mae lifted him carefully.
The moment Noah settled against Leah’s chest, she broke.
She kissed his forehead.
His cheek.
His tiny curled hand.
“Hi.”
Her voice shook.
“I’m your mom.”
Noah opened his eyes for less than a second.
Leah laughed through tears.
“I know.”
“Everything’s weird.”
“I’m confused too.”
Mae turned away, pretending to organize supplies.
Simone watched from her bed.
She was crying.
Leah looked at her.
Simone wiped her face.
“Don’t say anything.”
Leah smiled.
“I wasn’t going to.”
“You were.”
“I was.”
The door opened.
Nathan entered.
He stopped when he saw Noah.
For the first time in days, his entire face changed.
The tension vanished.
The defensiveness disappeared.
He looked like the man Leah had married.
“Oh my God,” he whispered.
Leah held Noah tighter.
Nathan approached slowly.
“He’s beautiful.”
“Yes.”
“Can I hold him?”
Leah looked at him.
Love and betrayal existed inside her at the same time.
It was almost unbearable.
“Did you sign papers while they were taking me to surgery?”
Nathan froze.
The softness vanished.
“Who told you that?”
“I saw you.”
“It was hospital paperwork.”
“What paperwork?”
Nathan rubbed his face.
“Not now.”
“Yes.”
“Leah, you just had surgery.”
“Exactly.”
He looked toward Mae.
“This is private.”
Mae did not move.
Leah said, “She stays.”
Nathan stared at her.
Then he lowered his voice.
“Mom wanted to make sure Noah would be cared for if something happened to you.”
Leah felt cold.
“He has a father.”
“Yes.”
“So why was Doreen involved?”
“Because I was signing temporary family authorization.”
“For what?”
“In case I needed help.”
“With your own child?”
Nathan’s jaw tightened.
“You were in emergency surgery.”
“And you used those fifteen minutes to create a custody chain.”
“That isn’t what happened.”
“Then show me what you signed.”
“I don’t have it.”
“Get a copy.”
Nathan looked at Noah.
“Can we please have one normal moment?”
Leah’s eyes filled.
“You destroyed normal.”
He flinched.
Noah stirred.
Leah immediately lowered her voice.
Nathan watched her soothe him.
Something in his face broke.
“Leah.”
“No.”
She looked up.
“You recorded me.”
“You witnessed a forged signature.”
“You helped your mother build a psychiatric referral.”
“And while doctors were cutting our son out of me, you signed more papers.”
“You don’t get to ask me for normal.”
Nathan looked down.
“I was scared.”
“So was I.”
“Mom said—”
Leah laughed bitterly.
“There it is.”
Nathan closed his eyes.
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“Tell the truth.”
“I am.”
“No.”
“You’re telling me what your mother told you to believe.”
His face hardened.
“That’s unfair.”
“So is planning to take my child.”
“No one is taking him.”
“Then give me the documents.”
Nathan did not answer.
Leah nodded slowly.
“Get out.”
He looked at Noah again.
“Leah.”
“Get out.”
Nathan left.
This time, he looked back before closing the door.
Leah hated that part of herself still wanted him to come back.
At noon, a social worker arrived.
Her name was Angela Pierce.
She wore a lavender cardigan and spoke in a gentle voice.
“I understand there have been concerns regarding discharge planning.”
Leah looked at Mae.
Mae was charting at the counter.
“What concerns?”
Angela sat.
“Family support.”
“My family support is not your concern.”
“It becomes our concern when a newborn may be entering a stressful environment.”
Leah’s pulse quickened.
“Who said my environment is stressful?”
Angela smiled.
“I’m not here to accuse anyone.”
“Then answer me.”
“Your husband has reported significant marital conflict.”
Leah nearly laughed.
“My husband created the conflict.”
“I understand you feel that way.”
Leah’s eyes narrowed.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Turn a fact into a feeling.”
Angela paused.
Mae looked over.
Leah continued.
“My husband admitted secretly recording me.”
“He witnessed a medical proxy I did not sign.”
“I have requested an investigation.”
“Those are facts.”
Angela folded her hands.
“I’ll document that.”
“Good.”
“May I ask about your plans after discharge?”
“I’m going home with my son.”
“With Nathan?”
Leah hesitated.
“No.”
Angela made a note.
“Where will you go?”
Leah had not thought that far.
She hated that.
“My sister.”
She had not spoken to her older sister, Mara, in nearly six months.
Not because they were estranged.
Because Mara hated Nathan.
More specifically, Mara hated Nathan’s dependence on Doreen.
Leah had grown tired of defending him.
Now she wished she had listened.
“Where does your sister live?” Angela asked.
“Cincinnati.”
“Does she know you’re coming?”
“She will.”
Angela nodded.
“What is her full name?”
“Mara Ellis.”
“Phone number?”
Leah stopped.
“Why do you need it?”
“To verify a safe discharge plan.”
Leah looked at Mae.
Mae’s expression was unreadable.
Leah said, “I’ll call her myself.”
Angela smiled.
“That’s fine.”
She stood.
Before leaving, she looked at Noah.
“He’s beautiful.”
Leah said nothing.
At two, Leah called Mara.
Her sister answered on the third ring.
“Hey.”
Leah almost cried at the sound of her voice.
“Mara.”
Silence.
Then Mara’s tone changed.
“What happened?”
“I had the baby.”
“Oh my God.”
“Is he okay?”
“Yes.”
“Are you?”
“I don’t know.”
Mara became quiet.
“What did Nathan do?”
Leah laughed once.
Of course her sister knew where to start.
“I need you to listen without interrupting.”
“That sentence means I’m going to want to interrupt.”
“I know.”
Leah told her everything.
The recordings.
The medication.
The forged proxy.
The psychiatric referral.
The emergency family placement document.
The blue folder.
When she finished, Mara did not speak for several seconds.
Then she said, “I’m coming.”
“Mara.”
“I’m leaving now.”
“It’s almost two hours.”
“I know how roads work.”
“Mara.”
“What?”
“I need more than a ride.”
“I know.”
Leah swallowed.
“I need someone who believes me.”
Mara’s voice softened.
“I always believed you.”
Leah closed her eyes.
“I know.”
“No.”
“You didn’t.”
“That was the problem.”
“I’ll be there.”
Mara hung up.
At four fifteen, Noah’s pediatrician examined him.
He was healthy.
Small, but healthy.
The doctor said he could remain in Leah’s room.
At five, Doreen arrived carrying flowers.
Mae stopped her at the door.
“Ms. Carver is limiting visitors.”
Doreen looked past her.
“I’m family.”
Leah spoke from the bed.
“No.”
Doreen stared.
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t want you here.”
Doreen’s face remained composed.
“Leah, this is ridiculous.”
“Leave.”
“You just had major surgery.”
“Yes.”
“You’re exhausted.”
“Yes.”
“You’re making emotional decisions.”
Leah almost smiled.
There it was again.
Every boundary became a symptom.
“I am making a clear decision.”
“I do not want you in my room.”
Doreen turned to Mae.
“You heard her.”
Mae nodded.
“I did.”
Doreen looked shocked.
“Then do something.”
“I am.”
Mae stepped between them.
“Mrs. Carver, you need to leave.”
Doreen’s face changed.
For the first time, Leah saw genuine anger.
“You have no idea who you’re speaking to.”
Mae’s expression did not move.
“I know exactly who you are.”
Something flickered in Doreen’s eyes.
Recognition.
Mae knew her.
Not socially.
Historically.
Doreen noticed Leah noticing.
Then Doreen smiled.
It was a terrible smile.
“You’ve been here a long time, haven’t you, Nurse Rowland?”
“Twenty-three years.”
“That creates a great deal of confidence.”
“Experience.”
“Sometimes people confuse the two.”
Mae opened the door wider.
Doreen looked at Leah.
“I’ll speak to Nathan.”
Leah met her eyes.
“You do that.”
Doreen left.
Mae closed the door.
Leah looked at her.
“She knows you.”
“Yes.”
“From Elise?”
“No.”
Mae walked to the sink.
“From before Elise.”
Leah’s stomach tightened.
“How far before?”
Mae turned.
“Seventeen years.”
Simone stopped moving.
Leah stared.
“What happened seventeen years ago?”
Mae opened her mouth.
An alarm sounded.
Not a patient monitor.
A ward alarm.
Red lights began blinking over the doorway.
Mae rushed into the hall.
Leah heard someone shout.
“Infant band mismatch.”
Another voice answered.
“Lock the elevators.”
Mae ran back into the room.
Her face had changed completely.
“Where is Noah’s ankle band?”
Leah looked down.
The plastic identification band had been around his ankle ten minutes earlier.
Now it was gone.
She pulled back the blanket.
Nothing.
“No.”
Mae checked the bassinet.
The floor.
The sheets.
“Who was in here?”
Leah’s heart hammered.
“The pediatrician.”
“Angela.”
“Doreen never got inside.”
“Anyone else?”
Leah remembered.
A young orderly had entered thirty minutes earlier.
He had taken the trash.
He had leaned over the bassinet.
Only for a second.
“I don’t know his name.”
Mae grabbed the wall phone.
Before she could dial, the door opened.
Two security officers entered.
Behind them stood Angela Pierce.
And behind Angela stood Doreen.
Doreen held a plastic identification bracelet between two fingers.
Noah’s bracelet.
She looked directly at Leah.
May you like
“Someone found this in the hallway.”
Then Angela said quietly, “Leah, we need to talk about why your son’s security band was removed while he was in your care.”
