The Mummy Miracle

Scared? A surge of strength hit her. She wasn’t in the habit of giving in to scared. She took in a breath to tell him that she would hold the baby after all. And she would have reached out her hands before the words came, except they were a little slow to respond to her brain’s signal and she had to make an extra effort.

But before either the movement or the words could happen, Dev accepted her refusal, gave her an easy excuse. “You’re tired,” he said. He let out a breath that might have been partly relief, as if maybe he’d doubted the strength and coordination in her arms more than he’d let on. “We should wait a little.”

She almost argued.

Almost.

But, oh, he was right, she was tired, and she’d tried so hard to stay on top of everything today. She let it go, and watched him tiptoe to the infant car carrier sitting in the corner of the living room and lay the baby down, easing his forearm out from beneath her little head with a movement so practiced and gentle it almost broke her heart.

“Very tired,” she managed to respond. “I’m sorry.” I’m so sorry, DJ.

“Don’t beat yourself up.” The baby stirred a little, but didn’t waken.

“I—I—” Did he know? Did he understand the extent of her panic?

“Let’s take it slow. It’s okay.”

“Thanks. Yes.”

She heard a car in the driveway, and footsteps and the voices of Elin and Mom. Dev lunged for the door before they could knock. He held it open and stood with the width of his body shielding the room from their view.

Mom said, “Is she still here?”

“Yes, but why are you here, Barb? I asked you very clearly to—”

“I’m sorry, we just couldn’t—I’m sorry.” This was Elin, clearly reading his anger. “We have a right to be involved in this, too, don’t we? DJ is ours, too. We all care so much.”

“You’d better come in.”

“Thank you,” said Mom, in a crisp voice.

“I really think it’s best, Devlin.” This was Elin, in a softer tone.

“We are as involved in all of this as you are.” Mom again.

They dropped at once to sit on either side of Jodie on the couch, their voices running over her along with their hands, all of it a jumble that she heard at two steps removed, like recorded voices or lines from a half-remembered play. Honey, are you okay? Obviously you know. Obviously there’s so much to talk through. That’s why we wanted to wait until you were ready. What has Dev said, so far?

“You barely gave me time to say anything,” he said.

“Listen, it’s not as if any of us have had any experience with a situation like this, Devlin,” Elin said.

“Shh … keep your voice down, can you?”

“Sorry … sorry.” Elin glanced over at the baby and looked surprised. “You have her in the car carrier?”

“She seems to sleep better in there, during the day.”

“Well, then, I guess …” But I never did that with my babies, was the implication.

“She’s fine. She wouldn’t sleep so peacefully if she was uncomfortable there.”

“If you say so.”

Both Devlin and Elin were holding it together with difficulty, and Mom looked trapped and unhappy, her mouth open as if she wanted to speak, although no words came.

Jodie slumped against the back of the couch. She’d started to shake. Could they feel it? She felt more tired than she’d ever felt in her life, and her lips had gone dry. She closed her eyes, willing this chaos of family and tension and questioning to … just … stop.

“Should we take her? Jodie, are you ready to go home?”

She opened her eyes. “Yes, take her.”

I mean, who is she? How can she even exist?

“I—I don’t know what I want to do,” she blurted. “I think I need some space. Another nap.” Her own bed seemed like the safest haven in the world.

There was a small silence, while Elin and Mom and Devlin all looked at each other, shrugged and raised eyebrows and gestured—body language that was beyond Jodie’s ability to interpret right now.

“I guess that’s an option,” Dev said slowly to Elin and Mom. “For you to take her and Jodie to stay here.”

“That’s not—” What I meant. But the rest of it wouldn’t come, and the first bit had come almost on a whisper, and they were too busy making plans to hear her.

“She should transfer to the car without waking,” Dev said. “I have a couple of bottles made up in the fridge.”

“We have bottles. We have diapers, clothes, everything. You know that. She’s due for her bath.”

“I’ll drop Jodie home when she’s ready. She’s right. We need to talk. Have some space.”

They’d worked it all out between the three of them, while Jodie was still struggling to lift an arm to brush a strand of damp hair from her eyes. She was staying here with Dev to talk. The baby was going back with Mom and Elin. Going back before she, the mother, had even touched her.

She wanted to argue the plan, but the words wouldn’t come, so in the end she let it happen, and when the baby carrier was buckled into the car and Mom and Elin had driven away, she felt so relieved, and so ashamed of the relief, and so horribly, horribly tired. “I can’t—” she said to Dev.

“I know you can’t talk yet. Sleep first.”

“Two naps a day. I’m like—” She stopped.

A baby.

My baby.

“Just rest.”

“Why aren’t you in New York? Tell me why. In simple words. Because it seems to me that you didn’t have to still be here. Obviously DJ is being taken care of. Obviously she’s loved. Obviously I have the support. So why?”

He looked at her steadily, with some of the anger he’d clearly felt toward Elin and Mom still simmering below the surface. He seemed to be thinking hard before he chose his words.

“Because she’s my daughter.” The last two words came out with a simmering intensity. “Because we’re a family. You and me and DJ. Three of us. That’s not negotiable. Three of us, not two.”

“A family …” Jodie echoed foolishly, tasting the word and not feeling sure of how it felt in her mouth.