The Baby Snatchers

by Chris Taylor

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I was out of line. I—”

  “No,” he said, cutting her off. “I’m glad you did. I… I probably needed to hear it.” He blew out his breath on a heavy sigh and once again turned away. As if unable to stand still, he began to pace the small room.

  “When my colleague first mentioned Cynthia last night and the fact that she’d just had a baby, I was shocked and angry. I’m eleven years older than my sister. I left home when she was a small child and she was still in the care of our parents. Discovering she’d become a mom at sixteen confused the hell out of me. I was bombarded with questions, but had no answers.” He shook his head and Georgie felt his frustration.

  He spun on his heel and planted his hands on his hips, staring at her. “Where were my parents when this was happening? How did my baby sister come to be in Sydney, miles from home, pregnant and alone? I couldn’t help but think maybe, just maybe they’d treated her as poorly as they’d treated me and the guilt of that possibility has been eating me alive.” His breath came harsher and his hands clenched into fists. Renewed anger flashed in his eyes.

  “The very thought that Cynthia’s been forced out on the streets makes my blood boil. I don’t want to believe it, but nothing else makes sense. If they were supporting her through her pregnancy, they’d be here, to support her through the birth. Wouldn’t they?”

  Once again, he turned his fierce gaze on Georgie and she could barely manage a nod. She was trying to keep up with the outpouring of past anger and hurts. She could understand his reaction. She’d feel the same way if this happened to one of her sisters.

  “I-I probably shouldn’t tell you this,” she started hesitantly, “but you’ll find out soon enough. If I had to guess, I’d say your sister’s been living on the streets. She was very evasive about her living arrangements, apart from saying she lived on her own and there are other signs—physical signs that she’s been doing it rather tough.”

  “Fu—” His jaw clenched and Georgie could see the effort it took him to control his temper. “I’m going to kill him. I’m going to track down that cowardly, sorry excuse of a father and kill him with my bare hands.”

  The coldness in his voice sent a shiver up Georgie’s spine. She could only hope it was anger and desperation talking, and that he didn’t really mean it. Dismissing his declaration, she turned the conversation back to the matter at hand.

  “Let’s talk about Cynthia. Is there somewhere she can stay? Do you have room at your place? I think it might be best if someone keeps a close eye on her for the next little while. It’s hard to know how she’ll react or if she’ll be debilitated by her grief. Everyone’s different, but there’s no doubt she’ll be grieving for a while. I can recommend a counselor at the hospital who specializes in this kind of thing, but there is a rather long waiting list, unless you can afford to have her see someone privately.”

  “I live alone in a three-bedroom condominium. I’ll do and provide whatever Cynthia needs. Just tell me what that is, and I’ll make sure it happens.”

  Georgie held his gaze and in that moment believed the integrity and determination she saw in his eyes. She hid her relief. So many of her patients had no one to turn to for support. Even those who left the hospital with their newborn in tow still worried her when she knew they’d be battling with the hardships of child rearing on their own. She’d never raised a child, but she knew enough to know it wasn’t easy and was made harder still when you were running solo.

  “Cynthia’s lucky to have you,” she said and meant it. Her first impression of Cameron hadn’t done him justice. It was obvious there was more substance to him than that of the self-absorbed, arrogant ladies’ man he portrayed.

  He shrugged off her praise as if it were unnecessary and even more, unwanted. She tightened her jaw and curbed her irritation. She didn’t say things like that just for the sake of it, but what would he know? He didn’t know anything about her and was unlikely ever to find out, either. After his sister was discharged, she’d never see him again. The thought was a little disappointing.

  “Can I go to her now?” he asked, breaking into her musings. His voice held more than a hint of impatience.

  “Of course, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to have a moment alone with her to let her know you’re here. I’m guessing your visit will be as much a surprise for her as the news about her was for you.”

  He compressed his lips, but gave her a brief nod of understanding—appreciative and almost friendly. She brushed past him on her way out the door. A whisper of his expensive cologne tickled her nose and she deliberately refused to think about how nice it smelled.

  She couldn’t help but wonder how he felt about adoption in general, but it was obvious his relationship with his adoptive parents was less than amicable. Given her past, it would be beyond unwise to fall for a man who appeared to have issues with at least part of the adoption process. He might be good-looking, and smell nice, but she didn’t need a complication like Cameron Dawson in her life, no matter how tempting.

  Pushing the unsettling thoughts aside, Georgie strode across the polished linoleum floor until she reached the end of the ward. She eased open the curtain, calling out softly to the young girl who remained curled up in the bed.

  “Cynthia? How are you doing?”

  The girl rolled over and stared at her. Georgie was relieved to see the majority of Cynthia’s tears had subsided. Red, swollen eyes and the occasional sniffle were the only reminders of her recent distress.

  “You have a visitor, someone who’d like to see you,” Georgie said.

  Cynthia frowned and Georgie could tell the teen was trying to process Georgie’s words. “A visitor? For me?”

  “Yes. You mentioned yesterday afternoon you had a brother. I made a call and managed to track him down. He’s waiting outside. He’d like to see you.”

  Cynthia’s eyes went wide with disbelief. Hope and fear warred on her face. “You found Cameron? He’s here? At the hospital?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does he know about…Josephine?”

  “Yes.”

  The girl closed her eyes and fresh tears welled up beneath her lids and slid slowly down her cheeks. She lifted a hand and brushed them away and then opened her eyes again. She looked at Georgie and most of the fear had gone. Instead, her expression was filled with hope.

  “Would you like to see your brother, Cynthia?” Georgie asked quietly.

  “Yes! Yes! Oh, my goodness! Yes! Please, ask him to come in.”

  Georgie opened the curtain and beckoned to Cameron who stood waiting a short distance away. No doubt he’d heard their conversation through the thin fabric. He muttered a few cursory words of thanks and pushed past her. Georgie moved out of the way and closed the curtains after him.

  “Cam, oh, Cam! I can’t believe it’s you! Oh, my goodness! You’re so huge! I barely recognize you!”

  “How are you, little sis? It’s so good to see you, all grown up! I’ve missed you so much!”

  Their voices were filled with laughter and tears and most of all, love. Georgie sighed quietly in relief and walked away with a much lighter heart. With time to heal and the love and support of her brother, Cynthia would be fine. For that, Georgie couldn’t help but be grateful.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Cameron helped his little sister into the passenger seat of his second-hand, silver Audi R8 Coupe and closed the door behind her. His head spun with a million frantic thoughts. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

  After her initial joy at reuniting with him, Cynthia had slumped into a daze of sullenness and depression. Each question he threw at her received monosyllabic answers and he was fast running out of patience. Knowing his short temper was the last thing she needed, he did his best to suck in a few deep breaths and ease the tension from his shoulders.

  He’d signed the discharge papers and had effectively agreed to take on the responsibility of his minor sister, but he wasn’t quite sure
where to start. He hadn’t been responsible for anyone but himself from the moment he’d left home, and the knowledge that Cynthia was now depending upon him for her welfare, scared him. Most days he was lucky to keep himself stable and heading down the right path, and that was before taking on the burden of a teenage sister and seeing to her needs.

  Physical needs he could manage. Like he’d told the cute nurse, he had plenty of room in his condo. It was the emotional stuff that was in much shorter supply. He’d learned a decade ago to shut down that side of him. It was safer and a whole lot less painful if he kept his feelings under control. But his little sister was hurting badly, dealing with the traumatic loss of her baby, and it was up to him to help her.

  The thought that she was no longer alone surged through him, fierce and strong. By some stroke of luck, karma—whatever—he’d reconnected with her and he was determined to be there for her for as long as she needed him. She was a child dealing with one of life’s toughest lessons. There was no way he’d let her go through any more on her own.

  Climbing behind the wheel, he glanced across at her. Her head was turned away from him. She stared out the window. Her hands were twisted in her lap and fresh tears slid slowly down her cheeks. Sadness flooded through him, but there was nothing he could do.

  Feeling helpless and totally inadequate, Cam switched on the ignition and kept his focus on the road. The sassy midwife had been right. There would be time enough for questions later. Right now, his baby sister needed to be left alone and given time to heal.

  “Cam?”

  Cameron started at her husky question. Weaving in and out of the burgeoning midday traffic, he’d let the silence between them lengthen and had been lost in his heavy thoughts. It took him a moment to realize Cynthia had spoken. “Yes, honey?”

  “Could you… Could you stop by a K-Mart?”

  Cam frowned with uncertainty. “Now?”

  She nodded and kept her eyes lowered.

  “You want to go shopping?”

  “No! I mean…yes… That is…” A blush stained her cheeks crimson.

  Cam shook his head, still confused. “There’s a mall not far from where I live, but… Are you sure you’re up to it? You’ve only just come out of hospital. I thought you might want to go home and rest. I could fix us some lunch and get you settled and then—”

  “I need some things,” she blurted out, still refusing to look at him.

  “What kind of things? I have spare toothbrushes in the bathroom and you’re more than welcome to borrow my—”

  “Women’s things.”

  “Oh.” Now it was his turn to blush.

  “Could we just go to a drugstore?” she said quietly.

  His lips compressed and he nodded. “Sure.”

  In the end, he gave her a handful of cash and told her to go and buy what she needed. She’d taken the money gratefully and had headed into the store. Cam waited for her in his car. There were some things even an older brother shouldn’t be forced to do and this was one of them. Not for the first time, he wondered what the hell he was going to do.

  * * *

  Georgie scanned her list of patients and tried to suppress a sigh. She was back at work after a couple days off and had hoped to return feeling rested and rejuvenated, but it hadn’t worked out that way. Her mother’s mention of Georgie’s teenage indiscretion had stirred up painful, old memories and had played on her mind night and day until she was all but consumed by thoughts of the baby she’d given away.

  She’d given birth to a little boy and he’d been perfect in every way. Not that she’d been allowed much time with him. Her mother had seen to that. Marjorie had assured her it was for the best; that adoption was the only sensible thing to do. Georgie was seventeen with the world at her feet. A baby was the last thing she needed.

  Over the months of her pregnancy, her mother had slowly worn her down until Georgie finally agreed to sign the papers, but the knowledge that she had a child—a son—living somewhere in the world was never far from her thoughts.

  Hearing Cynthia talk about the horrible home life she and her brother had endured with their adoptive parents had brought the whole awful time back and Georgie couldn’t help but wonder if her son had fared better than them. She could only hope and pray he’d been adopted by loving parents who treated him with kindness and respect, but she couldn’t shake the dreadful feeling that things might not have turned out like that.

  What if he’d been adopted by people like the Dawsons? What if he were being mistreated and would one day be forced out on the street?

  The knowledge that she couldn’t do anything about it was slowly driving her mad. Though the laws now allowed a birth mother to seek contact with her child, she was torn about whether it was the right thing to do. Her son was now a twelve-year-old. Presumably, he was settled and comfortable in his life. She had no way of knowing if he’d been told the truth about his adoption, or how he’d react if he hadn’t.

  She’d agreed to give him up and it had been the hardest thing she’d ever done. Was it fair to either of them to seek him out again? Would he even want to see her? No, she had to believe he was happy; that he was better off without her in his life. Making contact with him now would only scare and confuse him and he might struggle with the fact she’d given him away. He might even blame her, hate her…

  A shaft of pain tore through her at the thought and she pressed a hand against her mouth to hold back a gasp. She hadn’t wanted to give him up… She hadn’t! And yet, she had done just that. With the slightest movement of her hand, she’d signed all her parental rights away…

  “Hey, Georgie, are you working on the post-natal ward tonight?”

  Blinking away her heavy thoughts, Georgie turned to greet the nurse who strode up beside her.

  “Hey, Julia. Yes, I’m looking after the moms and bubs in beds ten to thirteen.”

  Julia grimaced. “You’re in for a tough night. Two of the four are heroin addicts. Both of them used constantly during their pregnancies. The woman in bed twelve’s addicted to methamphetamine and the one in bed eleven’s a chronic alcoholic. Her baby’s been born with a severe case of fetal alcohol syndrome.”

  Georgie’s heart sank. Mothers withdrawing from long-term drug and alcohol addictions were often rude and demanding and their newborns usually also had serious issues. While still in utero, the babies had become used to regular drug and alcohol fixes. Now that they’d been born, the drugs had come to a halt. It was imperative they withdraw from them slowly.

  “I’ve been on a couple of days off. I’m not familiar with any of these patients,” she said and continued to walk toward the nurses’ station. Julia kept pace with her.

  “Keep an eye on the woman in bed ten. Her partner smuggled in heroin last night. Unfortunately, she’d already taken the hit before we discovered it.”

  “Had she already been given her methadone dose?”

  “Of course. A few hours before. She’d even attended a therapy session earlier that morning.”

  Georgie shook her head in despair. While inpatients, both mothers and babies received treatment for their addictions in the form of voluntary counseling and prescribed medication in strictly controlled measures. It was hoped the regulated dosage of methadone would aid both patients in a steady, controlled withdrawal with fewer side effects, but it was meant to be taken instead of the illicit opiate, not in addition.

  The biggest problem the staff faced in the hospital wasn’t dealing with the withdrawal symptoms, it was ensuring the patients remained drug free while they were in the hospital’s care. While drugs and alcohol were strictly prohibited, it didn’t stop the women and even the babies from craving another fix.

  Some of the mothers promised to stay clean, but Georgie had learned the hard way their promises often meant nothing. If they weren’t getting a fix outside the hospital boundaries, their partners brought it in, like in the case of the woman in bed ten, and they were getting high right on the ward, behind the s
eclusion of their privacy curtains.

  It was incredibly sad and frustrating for Georgie to watch the women destroy themselves over and over again. They were mothers. Their babies were as dependent upon them as any newborn could be. It was beyond difficult to watch the little infants, already addicted to drugs, knowing that in a few days they’d be discharged along with their mothers and their lives would become something Georgie couldn’t even bear to think about.

  “How is her baby doing?” Georgie asked quietly.

  “About as well as you’d expect. He’s suffering many of the usual signs of withdrawal: sweating, fever, shaking, vomiting and diarrhea. Poor thing.”

  “When’s his mother due to be discharged?”

  “Tomorrow. FACS have been notified, but so far, no one’s made an appearance on the ward. Let’s hope someone assesses her before she leaves.”

  A tension headache made itself known behind Georgie’s eyes and she squeezed them shut in an effort to dislodge it. Her shift had only just begun and already a familiar sense of hopelessness and dread churned inside her.

  It was hospital policy to notify the people from FACS when the staff identified a baby at risk, but the social workers were overworked and understaffed and there just weren’t enough of them to follow up on every case. Georgie hated to think how many children were suffering because of a lack of government resources.

  With every drug-addicted mother who left the hospital with her baby in her arms, a tiny piece of Georgie died. She wanted to take each and every baby home and raise it herself—and that wasn’t merely a response to her ever-present yearning for her own son.

  But even if it were possible, it could never happen. There were simply too many. She could never take care of them all. That was the reason she’d felt so happy when Cynthia Dawson’s brother had been found.

  It had been a fortnight since the pair of them had left the ward, hand in hand, and Georgie had been almost overwhelmed with relief. Cynthia might not have a baby to care for, but she was still a child herself. And for the moment, grieving deeply over the loss of her newborn, she needed a lot of love and support. Although she hardly knew him, Georgie was confident her brother could provide that. His words and actions showed how much he cared. From the moment he’d arrived on the ward, much of his attention and focus had been on his sister.