I moved to the bedroom feeling a little giddy over the thought of sleep. My head hit the pillow fast, and although I expected to be asleep immediately, I lay awake. I listened to the sounds in the house. I could hear my mother in the kitchen, doing dishes.
“Mom,” I called. “You’re supposed to be watching Laurie!”
“I am watching her.”
“You’re doing dishes,” I called from my room.
“She’s asleep.”
“You have to watch her. Make sure she’s breathing.”
“Of course she’s breathing.”
“I can’t sleep unless I know you’re watching her.”
Mother peeked through the bedroom door. “Okay, Katie, I’ll watch Laurie every minute. Just rest, for God’s sake. You’re turning a little nutty.” She shut the door tightly behind her.
I tried to will myself to sleep. I couldn’t have been more exhausted, and yet sleep eluded me.
The phone rang. I picked it up.
“Mrs. Connolly? This is Nick Dowling from the medical examiner’s office.”
My blood surged to my toes, leaving me light-headed. “Yes?”
“Is Mr. Connolly available?”
“No. He’s at work. Did you get our message? About George’s scars.”
“Yes, ma’am, I sure did. I’m sorry I didn’t call you back sooner. The victim’s family had to be notified. Now I can confirm that the body we recovered was definitely not George Connolly.”
Air rushed back into my lungs. “Thank God!”
Not George! Not George!
“Will someone be able to pick up Mr. Connolly’s bags? We don’t need them any longer and we haven’t been able to reach him.”
Maybe a little excursion was what I needed. Nothing too strenuous, just something to get my mind off milk and diapers.
“I can get them.”
After I hung up with Dowling, I immediately dialed Jim’s work number. I got his voice mail and left a message with the good news. The body was most definitely not George. What a relief. I felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from my heart. George and I had never been close, and Jim and George’s relationship was tenuous at best, but an untimely death would have been staggering.
I made my way to the living room and peeked in on Mom and Laurie. The baby was still sound asleep in her bassinet. “I’m going to make coffee. Want some?”
Mom barely looked up from her knitting. She was making something out of hideous green yarn. “I thought you were going to get some rest?”
“I can’t sleep. I talked to the medical examiner. The body they recovered was not George.”
Mom’s head jerked up and she peered at me over her reading glasses. “Thank goodness. Jim will be very relieved to hear that.” She lowered her gaze to her knitting, and almost on automatic pilot her hands continued their work.
“What are you knitting?”
“Booties for Laurie.”
Great.
“Green?”
She glanced up at me. “Well, she has so much pink already. Are you allowed to have coffee when you’re breastfeeding?”
“A little. Will you watch Laurie, Mom? I need to shower and get dressed.”
“I am watching Laurie, dear. Are you going somewhere?”
“I’m going to get George’s bags from the medical examiner’s office. They can’t locate him.”
Mom tsked. “What do you suppose his bags were doing on that pier?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“I could go for you,” she offered.
“I’d like to get some fresh air.”
“Don’t overdo it. You’re up and around much sooner than I was after I had your brother, Andrew.”
Mom prattled on about her childbirth experience as I prepared for my first solo outing since Laurie’s birth.
I trudged up the steps to the medical examiner’s office and asked the receptionist, a girl with bleached blond hair pulled taut into a ponytail making her look no older than seventeen, if I could speak with Nick Dowling. I braced myself against the reception counter, out of breath and feeling a little light-headed from my walk. I had finally parked about three city blocks away at a thirty-minute meter. The receptionist gave me a sympathetic smile, dazzling me with teeth that must have been as bleached as her hair and indicated the waiting area. I sat, exhausted, as she went to get Dowling,
My jeans were straining at the seams. I had gambled on wearing a pair of nonmaternity jeans. No elastic waistband! I reasoned that the pair I had selected were stretch jeans and should fit fine. However, they were too binding, making me feel more bloated than ever. When was I supposed to get my figure back?