A Sliver of Sun (17 page)

I swallowed. “Ben said there’s something wrong with the baby’s lungs.”

“Nothing really wrong with them, they’re just not quite as developed as they should be yet. But they gave me some medicine that helps speeds things up.”

“So you think the baby will be okay?”

Mama sighed. “The doctor thinks so. But it won’t be able to come home with us right away. It will need special care here at the hospital for a while.”

“For how long?”

“I’m not sure, honey.”

I stood quietly, thankful to have a few minutes alone with Mama. Part of me wanted to tell her that Ben had hugged me. But I decided to savor the memory all to myself just a little longer “Are you scared?”

She squeezed my hand. “I’d be lying if I said no. But I think everything’s gonna be okay, Piper Lee. I honestly do. Now why don’t you pull up a chair, and keep me company a while.”

So I did. And Ben and Miss Claudia and Ginger came in a few minutes later. Miss Claudia handed me a lemon lime soda and a molasses cookie. And I finally felt like I could eat something without getting sick. And we all sat with Mama and watched television with her for over an hour, until a nurse came in and asked if she was ready to welcome her new little one into the world.

Ben stayed with her, but the rest of us had to leave. I was afraid we’d get stuck waiting in the same family room again, but Miss Claudia took us to a park across the street from the hospital. I used up my worry on the monkey bars and the swings and the climbing rock, and it made the time pass so much faster than having to sit someplace and fret.

After a long while Miss Claudia’s cell phone rang, and she talked a bit ‘fore she waved us over. And Ginger and I ran to her, breathless.

“That was your daddy,” she said, beaming. “Your mama’s out of surgery now and everything went jus’ dandy. In another hour or so you’ll be able to see her.”

“What about the baby?” Ginger asked.

“Well, now, your daddy just said, ‘so far so good,’ so I guess we have to wait and see.”

“What was it?” Ginger asked. “Boy or girl?”

Miss Claudia put both hands on her cheeks and laughed. “Goodness, child. I was so busy listening I forgot to ask.”

We walked over to the hospital cafeteria and Ginger and I shared some chicken nuggets and fries. Then we went upstairs to the family waiting room. It seemed like a lot more than any hour, but finally Ben came to find us.

He stepped into the room with the funniest look on his face, kind of happy and awe struck and exhausted all at the same time. He spread his hands. “Well,” he said, “everything’s all right for now.”

“Mama’s okay?” I asked.

“She’s doin’ fine, but she’ll be in the recovery room a bit longer. But y’all can come meet the newest little Hutching if you want … all three pounds, twelve ounces of her.”

Her!

“A girl!” Ginger and I both said at the same exact second.

Ben and Miss Claudia laughed. “Yeah,” Ben said. “It’s a girl, all right.”

A girl. Three girls!

And I looked at Ginger and just shook my head as the wave of dismay passed over. But it didn’t last more than the blink of an eye, because as long as Mama was okay, maybe it didn’t matter so much.

Miss Claudia walked over to Ben and wrapped her arms around him and said, “Congratulations to you Ben Hutchings. You’re a daddy again.”

And Ben’s face flushed a shade brighter, and he looked as pleased as a honeybee on a blossom. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Now you three go on, and I’ll wait right here. Family first.”

I’m not sure why, but as Ben led us down the hall, my heart started to pound, and I started to sweat just the same as when Angela got up to read her book report. Only now, the whole thing with Angela didn’t seem like any big deal at all. We pushed through double doors that said “neonatal intensive care” and a nurse made us scrub our hands and helped us put on hospital gowns over our clothes. She even tied soft, paper masks over our mouths. “Preemies are especially susceptible to germs,” she said. “So we have to be extra careful.”

Ginger made big eyes at me above her mask, and I knew she was probably feeling about as scared and excited as me. Then the nurse led us through another set of doors into a bright, warm room, full of plastic incubators, white bedding and steel equipment that beeped and hummed and made all manner of soft noises.

Ben stepped over to one of the incubators with a little label that said,
Hutchings female
, and Ginger and I edged up on either side of him. And I caught my breath, because inside that plastic box was the tiniest human being I’d ever seen.

The baby lay on her stomach, with her knees pulled up underneath, and her arms straight at her sides. Her fists were the size of my thumb, her round little head was the size of a tennis ball, and a diaper covered half her body. Her skin was so fine you could see the blue veins below, and her whole body rocked with each rapid breath. I suddenly understood why Ben had looked a little awe-struck. I glanced up at him, and his eyes crinkled above his mask. “She’s really something, ain’t she?”

“She’s amazing,” Ginger whispered. “Look how tiny her ear is.”

“And her thumbs,” I breathed. “Look at her thumbs.”

“She’s got blond hair like me,” Ginger said.

I looked at the fine wisps of hair on the back of her head. They looked more golden brown than blond, but they were too fine to say for sure. Her eyes were tightly closed, and I wondered what color they were. A thin yellow tube disappeared underneath her, and two wires were taped to her back with plastic patches. It didn’t seem right that they’d stuck tape on her like that. It would surely hurt when they pulled them off. “What are the wires for?”

“To monitor her breathing and her heart rate,” Ben said. “And the tube’s for feeding since she can’t nurse yet.”

“What do they feed her?”

“Your mama’s milk.”

I thought about asking how that was possible if she couldn’t nurse but decided I’d wait and asked Mama instead.

“How long will she have to stay here?” Ginger asked.

“Till she reaches five pounds.”

“How much did you say she weighs now?”

“Just under four.”

Four pounds!
That was crazy. Mowgli weighed ten. “She don’t even weigh half a cat,” I said.

Ben chuckled softly. “Well, that may be, but the doctor said she’s in real good shape for being two months early.”

We stood staring at her for a long while, and I tried to take in every fascinating detail of her tiny body. Everything was perfect about her, just in miniature, and I was overrun with guilt about not wanting her. I could’ve kept staring for the rest of the day, but Ben said we needed to go, that we’d come back a little later when Mama could see her too.

It was nine o’clock that night before the nurse helped Mama into a wheelchair and rolled her in to the nursery to see the baby. Mama seemed even more awe-struck than the rest of us, and she laughed and cried and gave each of us hugs and thanked the Good Lord that everything had come out okay.

Then the nurse opened the top of the incubator so Mama could reach in and touch the baby. And she ran her fingertips ever so gently over her tiny back and head and arms, and she cooed and whispered to her that we all loved her and soon she’d get to come home with us.

I looked at the tag that said
Hutchings female
and it suddenly bothered me on account of how cold and formal it sounded. I pointed to it. “She needs a better name than that. Y’all better pick something.”

Mama winked at me. “We already have, honey.” She gave Ben a soft smile. “Go ahead, guy, seeing as you’re the one who came up with it.”

Ginger and I both looked up at him, and even though you couldn’t see his mouth, I could tell he was smiling. “Her name’s Jinni,” he said. “Jinni Lee.”

Ginger narrowed her eyes a little, like she was turning the name over in her mind, trying it out, but I got it instantly, and it made a warmth flow from my head clear to my toes. “You named her after us.”

Ben winked at me.

And then Ginger’s eyes widened. “Ooooooh,” she said. “I get it. Jinni for Ginger and Lee for you.”

“Nothing gets past you,” Ben said.

Mama took my hand. “Y’know,” she said, “a full brother and sister share all the same genes. But Jinni is an equal half of both you girls, so it seemed fitting.”

And I nodded and had to blink fast to keep from tearing up, on account of it being one of the most amazing things I’d ever heard. And I didn’t even care that Ginger’s name came first. All I cared about was Mama saying she was equal parts of us, and the fact that Ben had come up with the idea made it all the more amazing. And it made me think about the cap—how I still hadn’t gotten the chance to offer it to him. But I would. And I knew he’d take it.

And I looked down at Jinni, and recalled all the crazy stuff that had happened in the past few months—all our efforts to get Mama to have a boy, the fiasco with the shaken beer and the stinky soy beans, writing the fake book report, getting in trouble over Angela and Ramsay—and suddenly none of it seemed very important, like it didn’t matter a speck. Because I finally knew Ben did care about me. He’d hugged me. He trusted me enough to keep our secret about Ramsay, and he cared enough to give Jinni part of my name.

Mama was still holding my hand, and she slowly raised it toward the incubator and said, “Go ahead, honey. You can touch her.”

I hadn’t wanted to before, I’d been too afraid I’d hurt her. But all at once I
did
want to. And it felt special that I got to do it first, before Ginger. I reached in real slow, and gently stroked the back of Jinni’s head with my fingertip.

“She’s soft as silk,” I breathed.

“I want a turn,” Ginger said.

“Just hold your horses now,” Ben said. “There’ll be plenty of chances to fight over her once she’s home.”

“Lordy,” Mama said. “I’m sure glad we got the nursery finished up ahead of time.”

And I pictured the little storage room Ben had turned into a nursery, with its sea-green walls, and the rocking chair Mama had found at Good Will. And I pictured Jinni lying in the wooden crib, looking up at the purple cow mobile Miss Claudia had brought. And none of it seemed that strange all of sudden, it seemed good and right. And I took my hand off Jinni and nodded to Ginger to go ahead and take her turn.

And I took in the happy, peaceful look on Mama’s and Ben’s faces, and suddenly it didn’t feel like the four of us were such a stiff, hard to open book anymore. We’d started to feel just a little more broken in. And I figured that’s because we weren’t four any more—we were five. And Jinni felt like a whole new chapter.

P
oppy’s life has been turned upside down after her grandma (and guardian) had a stroke and ended up in the hospital. But Poppy is working on a plan to help Grandma Beth so their life together can go back to normal. But when she witnesses an armed robbery, “back to normal” slips even further out of her reach. To keep Poppy safe, the budget-strapped police devise an unusual “witness protection program,” wherein Poppy will stay with Detective Brannigan’s mother. Soon Poppy is feeling almost at home, even making sort-of friends with a girl named Lizzie and definitely friending Gunner, a beautiful dog with an uncertain fate. But it’s still not home. So while she and Lizzie navigate a rocky friendship and plot to save Gunner’s life, Poppy also tries to figure out a new plan to save Grandma Beth and their home, all while avoiding a dangerous robber who might be searching for her. But what if Grandma Beth can never come home and the robber is put behind bars? What will happen to Poppy then?

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D
ianna Dorisi Winget has been writing since she was nine years old, when she would stuff notebooks under her bed to keep prying eyes from seeing her masterpieces. Today she’s a little less shy about sharing her work. Dianna lives in the mountains of north Idaho with her husband, daughter, and two canine buddies—a mild mannered Chihuahua, and a bossy Daschund. Find out more about Dianna and connect with her on
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