five-thirty in the morning, and the alarm wouldn’t go off for almost another half-hour. Under normal circumstances she would have been pleased to be able to roll over and go back to sleep. All her life she’d been an incurable night person who couldn’t fall asleep and had even more difficulty waking up in the morning. But this was not going to be a normal day. It was going to be the first day back to work after an unexpectedly long maternity leave of nearly twenty months.
After glancing briefly at her husband, Jack Stapleton, who was sound asleep, Laurie gently slid her legs out from beneath the down comforter and placed her bare feet on the ice-cold wood floor. She thought briefly about changing her mind and climbing back under the warm covers. But she resisted and instead clutched Jack’s T-shirt more tightly around her midsection and ran silently into the bathroom. The problem was that there was no way she’d be able to go back to sleep, as her mind was already going a mile a minute. She felt great turmoil stemming from her ambivalence about going back to work. Her main worry was for her just-over-one-and-a-half-year-old son, John Junior, and whether it was appropriate to leave him with a nanny for what would often be long days. But there was also a personal issue concerning a real fear of competence after such an unexpectedly long break: Would she still be able to handle her job as a medical examiner at what she thought was the most prestigious ME office in the country, if not the world?
Laurie had been working at OCME, or Office of the Chief Medical Examiner, in the city of New York for almost two decades. Self-confidence had always been an issue with her, going back to her teenage years. When she’d first started work at OCME, she’d worried about her competence at such an extremely challenging and demanding position, and she’d not overcome the concern for years, far past the time that her colleagues had dealt with similar fears. Forensic pathology was a field where book learning was not enough. Intuition played a major role in being good at practicing it, and intuition came from constant experience. Every day a good forensic pathologist was confronted with something he or she had never seen before.
Laurie studied herself in the mirror and groaned. From her perspective she looked terrible, with dark circles under her eyes and a pallor that was more suited to one of her patients. Motherhood had been more difficult and exhausting physically and mentally than she had ever imagined, particularly having had to deal with a serious, often fatal illness. At the same time, it had also been more rewarding.
Taking her robe from its hook on the back of the door and pulling it on, she slipped her feet into her mules with the pink puffs over the toes. She smiled at the slippers. They were the sole reminder of the time when she could feel sexy with lingerie and enjoy the feeling. Vaguely she wondered if that feeling would ever come back. Becoming a mother had changed her sense of self in a number of domains.
Back out in the hall, Laurie padded down to JJ’s room. The door was ajar, and she walked into the room, which was bright enough for her to see. Dawn was approaching, but more important there were a number of night- lights conveniently spaced along the baseboards. Thanks to her mother, the room was decorated with riotous blue wallpaper and matching curtains covered with images of airplanes and trucks.
The furniture consisted only of a rocking chair, which Laurie had used for breast-feeding, a bassinet swathed in eyelet, and a crib. The bassinet was still there for sentimental reasons, as was the rocking chair, although she used the rocker occasionally when JJ was fussy and needed her presence to fall asleep.
Moving over to the crib, Laurie gazed in at her son, thankful for his healthy complexion. With a shudder she could remember distinctly when it hadn’t been so. At the age of two months JJ had been diagnosed with high-risk neuroblastoma, a very serious and often deadly childhood cancer. But Laurie had been able to thank the lucky stars, or God, or whomever or whatever, that the cancer had disappeared. Whether it had been through the divine intervention of a faith healer in Jerusalem, the dedication of the doctors at Sloan-Kettering, or the fact that neuroblastoma can, on occasion, spontaneously resolve, Laurie would never know—nor care, if truth be told. The only thing that mattered to her was that JJ was now a normal one-and-a-half-year-old boy whose growth and development, despite chemotherapy and what was called monoclonal antibody therapy, had reached normal percentiles in all aspects, enough for Laurie to consider returning to work.
Glancing in at the peacefully sleeping child, a smile spread across Laurie’s face despite the concerns and ambivalence she was suffering about going to work. JJ’s angelic face reminded her of a conversation she’d had with Jack just the previous evening. It had started when they had both gone into JJ’s bedroom to check on the baby before going to bed themselves. As they gazed at the boy, she admitted something she’d never mentioned before to anyone: She was so certain that JJ was the most beautiful child in the world that whenever she chatted with the other neighborhood mothers at the playground across the street, she couldn’t help but wonder why someone had never remarked about it. “It’s so obvious,” she’d said to Jack.
To her surprise, Jack’s response had been to break out in a guffaw so loud she had to caution him not to wake the baby. It wasn’t until they had ducked out into the hall that Jack explained his reaction. By then Laurie was indignant, feeling as if Jack was making fun of her.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Your comment tickles my funny bone. Don’t you realize that all the mothers feel exactly the same?”
Laurie’s indignation faded rapidly, as did her frown.
“A mother’s love must be somewhere in our genome,” Jack had continued. “Otherwise we as a species would never have made it through the ice age.”
Snapping herself back to the present, Laurie became aware that she wasn’t alone in JJ’s room. Turning her head, she found herself staring into Jack’s shadowed face. All she could really see were the whites of his eyes, although there was enough light to appreciate that he was buck naked.
“You’re up early,” Jack said. He knew Laurie liked to sleep late, and it was part of the Stapleton routine for him to get up first, shower, and then nudge Laurie out of bed. “Are you all right?”
“Nervous,” Laurie admitted. “Very nervous!”
“What on earth about?” Jack questioned. “Leaving JJ with Leticia Wilson?” Leticia Wilson was a cousin of Warren Wilson, one of the local men with whom Jack regularly played basketball. Warren had suggested her to Jack one recent afternoon when Jack had mentioned they were looking for a nanny so that Laurie could go back to work.
“That’s part of it,” Laurie admitted.
“But you said these last few days that you’ve had your so-called dry run and that things had gone terrifically.”
Laurie had asked Leticia to come for two days, take JJ, feed him, take him out to the park, both the local playground and Central Park, and keep him until the time Laurie guessed she’d generally be getting home from OCME. There had been no problems, and best of all, both JJ and Leticia had taken to each other and had demonstrably enjoyed themselves.
“Everything went well,” Laurie admitted, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t still feel guilty about the situation. I know I’m going to suffer the maternal quandary, meaning that when I’m here with JJ, I feel guilty about not working, but today, while I’ll be working, I’m going to feel guilty about not being home. JJ is going to miss his mommy just like Mommy is going to miss JJ. Also, even though he’s been symptom-free for over a year, I’m continually worried he’s going to relapse. I guess I’m always going to be a little superstitious that the continuance of his recovery has something to do mystically with my presence.”
“I suppose that is understandable,” Jack said. “What’s the other part of your nervousness? It’s not anything about OCME personnel, is it? I mean, everyone is looking forward to your return, and I do mean everyone, from Bingham all the way down to the security personnel. Everyone I run into has said something about looking forward to your return today.”
“Really?” Laurie questioned with disbelief. She thought it had to be a gross exaggeration, especially including Bingham, whom she was aware she addled on occasion with her independence and doggedness.
“Really!” Jack echoed spiritedly. “You are one of the most popular people at OCME. If you are nervous, it can’t be about fitting back into the team. It has to be about something else.”
“Well, maybe you are right,” Laurie admitted reluctantly. She had a good idea about what he was going to say if she admitted to her worries about competency and wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it, as nothing he said would make her feel differently.
“Let’s continue this discussion,” Jack said, his voice quavering. “But can we do it in the warm bathroom? I’m freezing in here wearing nothing but my pride.”
“Good idea!” Laurie responded. “Let’s go! I’m cold even with my robe.” After pulling JJ’s blanket up around his shoulders and tucking it in gently, she hurried after Jack, who’d made a beeline into the bathroom. When she got
