“Anne, we’ll talk about this later. She,” Tia pointed to Nurse Kim, “does not make me happy. It’s essential that I have a restful home if I’m to continue to carry my larger responsibilities.” Tia turned to make one last stand. “Phoebe is my daughter, this is my home, and I make the rules.” She stepped into their suite, closed the door.
I moved Nurse Kim across the hall into the nursery. No calm colors or warm lighting could take the edge off Tia’s narcissistic display. Nurse Kim slipped the bag off her shoulder and removed her coat.
“I’ve removed two infants from homes in five years as a Bureau nurse. In one case the father drank, in the other I found the mother twisting a baby’s arm to make the poor thing cry.” She walked through the space, didn’t look once at our borrowed furniture. I followed her as she hung her coat.
“Matron, I’ll be blunt. With Director Tia’s extensive personnel file and the concerns about her emotional stability, that young woman had better watch herself. If it wasn’t for Director David’s fine reputation and the genetic potential of those two, I wouldn’t have allowed a baby to be housed here.”
Bureaucratic paranoia officially found our residence that day with Cook Terrell keeping watch that Tia stay emotionally intact for national research, and Nurse Kim keeping watch that Tia became an emotionally responsible mother. And what role did the masterminds see me play beyond managing Ashwood’s return to productivity and fiscal health? Would Phoebe’s nurse nurture Tia’s development or stand in judgment of the baby’s brilliant yet unstable mother?
“Infant development is your specialty, Nurse Kim, and I’m sure you know that childhood development was my expertise before estate management.” I adjusted a slightly crooked window covering rather than directly confront her. “As a management team, we’re committed to building a safe learning and working environment for every child within Ashwood. It’s our goal to create a sense of stability and feeling of family as the cornerstone for improving estate productivity. That’s how I manage. Phoebe, or other children of the Regans, will thrive here.”
“You haven’t been onsite for a full month.”
“Which is why I’m so proud of all our improvements.” I turned to leave. “Your nursery monitor and security system access are ready for activation. To join our celebration, go back toward the foyer and follow the sounds of the children.” I broke with protocol by calling our workers what they were, children.
Closing the nursery door, I headed toward the kitchen for a talk with Terrell. The baby’s crying sidetracked me to the large reception room near the foyer. David stood near a mirror, swaying side to side, Phoebe held to his shoulder, her neck supported by one large hand.
“I thought I’d be better at this,” he said when he saw me. “She’s not very happy. Where’s the nurse?”
“Unpacking. “ My hands extended without any forethought. “Let me try.”
He settled Phoebe in my arms with reluctance. “Where’s Tia?” I asked while straightening the baby’s swaddling blanket.
“She’s not very happy, either.” David’s eyes followed my handling of Phoebe. Said the nurse threatened her. I think she’s in our bathroom crying.”
“This little one is hungry. That’s why she’s rooting into your shoulder. We’ll swing by the kitchen for a bottle, then find Phoebe’s mother.”
“We should leave Tia alone. She needs time to adjust.”
“She doesn’t have that luxury. Her daughter needs a mother now. Babies grab first priority. Everything changes. Nurse Kim isn’t here just to change diapers and do night duty. She’s also here to observe.” I took a breath, waited for a response. Got none.
“David, that nurse has influence, and first impressions mean a lot.” His eyes stayed on Phoebe, either totally fascinated by her tiny wrapped form or choosing to ignore my stern tone. “From the purely practical side, a nurse is paid for by the Bureau for ninety days. Then Ashwood must pick up any additional weeks Nurse Kim feels she must stay here. This estate doesn’t have those financial resources.”
“I’ll pay for any extra time Nurse Kim needs.”
“You’re not hearing me.” I jostled the baby as we walked. I gave Lana directions for a bottle to be heated and brought to us and offered my little finger to Phoebe as a pacifier. The baby fidgeted. “Nurse Kim will make the decision that she needs extra time to assess your ability to care for this baby. If she stays over ninety days, money will not be the only problem. Let’s take Phoebe to her mother.”
David closed the door behind us. Tia hid in the bath. The small cooler stood partially open.
I pointed that out to David. “You have to stop her drinking and watch her self-medicating. You do understand that this baby is totally vulnerable?”
“No one can live up to the expectations placed on her team.”
“Tia’s team means nothing to your daughter. All this baby understands right now is simple survival and comfort. You told me just yesterday that you want her to have the same stability you knew growing up. You need to start building that feeling right now.”
Phoebe cried in my arms, my finger no longer providing sucking pleasure, or nourishment. I handed her to David and suggested he walk until the bottle arrived. I knocked on the dressing room door, and then opened it to find the space empty. I tried the bathroom door next, heard a snuffling on the other side, and walked in.
She sat fully clothed in the empty bathtub, her eyes a bit unfocused. “What do you want? Is that bitch with you?”
“Your little girl is hungry and getting a bit over stimulated. Come hold her.”
She shook her head, bright unfocused eyes shedding tears onto her sweater.
“Take my hand.” I helped her from the tub. “Tia, what did you drink or take?”
I didn’t recognize the small drink container she placed in my hand, one of those part booze, part narcotic concoctions popular in Eastern Europe. Leaning heavily on me, she climbed over the tub’s side. I heard their door open and shut. “You’ll be a fine mother, Tia. Take it step by step.” I lowered my voice as if talking with the baby. “Wait until you hold Phoebe. She’s built like you, light as a snowflake.”
Once on her feet, Tia managed one more of her morph-like transitions into a vision of competency completed by a shake of her curly head. “Have David make me a mug of the detoxifying tea. He knows what I need.” She leaned toward the mirror, ran a finger under one eye. “Will Gestapo Nurse notice?”
“She’s watching how you relate to your daughter so she can help with the transition. Think of becoming a mother as an ultimate work challenge. No drinking or drugs on the job.” I could tell she didn’t understand, was so used to the eccentric scientist world where looks didn’t matter if results occurred. “Come on, I think the little princess’s bottle has arrived.” In an unusual burst of emotion, I gave Tia a sideways squeeze. “Ready?”
Her shoulder rested against my ribs a long moment. “We could be a great couple,” she said before stepping away. A purposefully ambiguous comment that could be a wish about her future with David or some totally sideways insinuation about the two of us.
Settling Phoebe in Tia’s arms, I tested the formula bottle. With a prayer that the baby I had carried lived in a more stable home, I did the work of Nurse Kim and led the new parents through their first feeding and burping and changing a diaper before reswaddling a sleepy, contented baby.
With the exception of Amber, we gathered in the dining room for a healthy treat as the Regans showed off their daughter. Kids again clustered around Tia, who wore Phoebe in a sling snuggle sack. David protected his wife and child from too many young fingers. The older boys hung back, enjoying a break from work, but not impressed with a baby. Lana carried a snack to Amber, who rested in the workers’ sick room.
I pulled Nurse Kim aside. “I spent the last hour helping the Regans care for their baby. I have to warn you that Director Tia heard a not-too-thinly-veiled threat in your comments and was deeply offended.”
S
he showed no surprise or concern. “I represent the Bureau’s interest in this baby’s future. I merely wanted the mother to know that I take my responsibilities seriously. These scientists are such social losers.”
The woman misjudged my tolerance with her cold perceptions of the world. “This is how I would like you to view your responsibilities at Ashwood.” I said. “You are here to help the Regans become secure in their ability to care for their daughter. You will be an educator, a caregiver, and a resource and member of our household expected to uphold our standards of respecting each other and nurturing the young.”
She sipped her tea, watching Tia swaying back and forth as any new mother would with a sleeping infant. Tia’s smile appeared genuine, David’s hand around her shoulder making public their state as a family.
“You have an unorthodox set of expectations,” Nurse Kim said without looking my way. “Perhaps you haven’t worked for the Bureau long enough to appreciate who we owe for our livelihood.”
“What I’m trying to help you understand is that you will not be successful with this couple if you resort to threats. Director Tia is a world-class leader in her research field and has not been expected to kowtow to the people assigned as supporters.” I looked around the room for Terrell, wishing for him to interrupt our conversation. No luck, he was surrounded by a small group of workers.
“What Director Tia does in the outside world is not my concern. If she can’t mother this baby, that’s my concern.”
“Yes, you’ve said that, but I’m not sure you understand the true priorities that surround this particular mother. World energy generation is what keeps Director Tia on the road representing the United States. That’s not her choice.” I checked for agreement, saw none. “Director David will be the chief nurturer. And it’s my understanding that Bureau expectation is that Director Tia is not to be allowed to fail at motherhood. If you’re uncomfortable with the situation, my management, or expectations, I’ll initiate a change request.”
“I understand. I also call that a threat.” With a sniff, she set her tea on a table and headed toward David and Tia.
Across the room I caught Terrell’s attention and quirked my head in direction of Nurse Kim’s path. He acknowledged with a nod and crossed the room with long steps to intercept her.
“Nurse Kim, you haven’t visited my kitchen yet. Let’s do that while Ms. Phoebe finishes her nap.” His honeyed voice invited the woman, his large hand on her elbow redirected her steps. I relaxed, enjoying our staff’s opportunity to be together for a few minutes of down time.
I leaned against the wall, half listening to a conversation between Magda and Jack about adding a new tier of irrigated growing beds in the larger greenhouses. Following three days of little sleep, I thought about closing my eyes right there. In fact, my eyelids may have lowered on their own. Not enough to block sight of Tutor James passing a small packet to our glassy-eyed new mother who tucked the handoff into a jacket pocket without notice of her husband or anyone else in the room. I hoped.
Before our weasel tutor left the room, I stood by Tia’s side, shooing the children away for the last of treats while placing my hand in her jacket pocket. With an awkward move around the baby sling, she slapped my wrist. I pushed her hand aside to snatch the small packet, feeling powder within the tissue.
Oblivious to the drug drop, David came to his wife’s defense. “Matron?”
I flashed the contents of my hand toward him for a mere second so others in the room might not notice something serious happening in our trio. “We’ll talk later,” I said. “Right now I think it’s time for Nurse Kim to show Phoebe the nursery and for us to get back to work.” I turned away, mingling with staff as I looked for James.
18
Nurse Kim stood within the kitchen talking to Magda about infant food preparation, ignorant of our agronomist’s acknowledged expertise and insensitive to other’s restlessness under her interrogating style.
“You probably don’t know you’re talking to the only agronomist on the regional advisory committee for infant and child nutrition improvement,” I interjected. “Magda’s one of our greatest resources with broad responsibilities in our new management structure.”
The nurse acknowledged this information with a small nod. “Hopefully we’ll have more time to talk about Phoebe’s dietary needs,” she said, each word coming out with stiff formality. “Everything,” she paused. “Everything that impacts the infant’s quality of life is of interest to me.”
I placed a hand on her elbow. “I think it is probably time for Phoebe to have a real nap. Tia fed her an entire bottle about forty-five minutes ago.”
The nurse excused herself. We watched her move through the dining room.
“That’s one conflicted person,” Magda volunteered. “She shakes my gypsy instincts. I thought a baby nurse would be more like somebody’s mother.”
“Somebody’s mother is probably like that woman. The two of us were lucky to be raised by other women.” She smiled at my comment. “By the way, is James in the kitchen?”
“He ran through here and down to the afternoon transport. Seemed to be in a hurry. Aren’t the workers having classes today? Cook was looking for you.”
At this mention, I realized the kitchen stood quiet. I inhaled deeply, seeking confirmation that dinner preparation was underway. Magda laughed.
“You look like a puppy sniffing for its supper. We’re having grilled sandwiches and fruit sauces. Cook and his crew prepped everything before the party. Don’t worry, you’ll be fed.” She left, chuckling, sure to tell people about my testing the air for dinner aroma.
I found Terrell in his office, occupied deeply in written communication on his data pad. “Is this a good time?”
He motioned me to sit down. “Close the door. I’ve got to finish this thought.”
“Only if you share it with me,” I said only half in jest. While he worked, I removed my ear piece.
With a touch, he sent the document. He lifted a hand to rub his forehead as he began talking. “We might have a dog too big to keep under the porch here.”
“Come again, Terrell?”
“How can you know who to watch in this set up? That little nurse’s got a steel rod up her ass and a puffed head full of self-importance. You’d think Ms. Phoebe got pulled feet first out of her body.” His chair creaked as he rocked in it.
“If we’re off line, tell me about your reaction to Nurse Kim.”
He wove his fingers together and rested his head back into the basket his hands formed. “Good thing is she doesn’t know I’m here to keep Director Tia on track, ’cause I got the sense that Bureau lady would love to bury Phoebe’s mama.”
Fleetingly I wondered where all the normal people lived and worked these days with government employees showing such odd-ball behaviors. Why couldn’t Ashwood have a cook who was just that, a nurse who loved her job because she loved babies, a tutor motivated by kids’ ability to soak up knowledge, a brilliant research scientist in residence unencumbered by psychological and chemical devils? An under-producing estate, Ashwood had enough personality challenges to keep any matron awake at night.
“Be straight with me, Terrell. What’s your Bureau assignment, and who pays your wages? I know Ashwood can’t afford someone with your skills.”
“Smart lady. I knew you’d figure it out.” He unlocked his hands, came forward in his chair. The pace of our last three days showed in lines across his forehead, the even deeper droop of his imperfect eye. “Answer made simple—I am paid by the Department of Energy and assigned at Ashwood on an exchange with the Bureau of Human Capital Management. As long as I’m needed to prop up Ms. Tia, I’ll be here on the DOE’s chit. Then, hopefully, I’ll have earned myself a job in a quiet clinic in some nice metro area.” He paused. “Of course, I could get locked into cook jobs.”
Dreams weren’t quite a lost piece of our lives, but the cold practicality of staying alive grounded our moments of fantasy. The government’s s
tance on drug treatment was less than humane—with food a precious commodity, only those capable of contributing to the economy were fed. Only the absolute elite, like our resident directors, found their way to drug treatment, limiting opportunities for trained professionals like Terrell. So he became an estate Cook, capital C required. A respectable career, but not his dream.
“And Nurse Kim? What’s your take on her, apart from the personality?
“Can’t separate the personality. I don’t know if she’d actually take Phoebe from the Regans, but she’s going to throw around her weight while she’s here, and that’ll upset Tia’s balance.”
“I’ll deal with her.” Reaching into my pocket, I withdrew the small packet and offered it to him. “We have an immediate situation. Our tutor slipped this into Tia’s pocket while you had Nurse Kim here in the kitchen. I saw it happen and followed up with my own hand in her pocket. Check it out, then I’ll lock it up.”
He opened the packet, tapped the powder down, stuck his pinkie into it and lifted the tiniest amount to his lips. “Cocaine.”
“Can you get a tox screen done with absolute confidentiality? Absolute.”
“I can do it here. Get me the sample.”
“Something tells me there’s a connection here between Barbara and Tia’s chemical issues. James, our soon-to-be ex-tutor, may be related to Barbara and apparently provider of street drugs for Tia. Think about the possibilities.”
Terrell whistled low. “You and I will be heroes or scapegoats depending on what we find and who wants to know.”
“To think that just a few weeks ago, I thought the big challenge here would be turning around the financial results.”
“No matter how the world gets re-organized, the bosses still like to treat their people like mushrooms—feed us lots of bullshit and keep us in the dark.”
Ashwood Page 13