The Baby Snatchers (19 page)

To Cam, it sounded sloppy at best. He
couldn’t help but think of the premier’s accusations. Could there
be something more sinister at play? Could there be a murderer on
Ward Seven? Or alternatively, could someone be stealing babies and
selling them?

The very thought was ludicrous, but once it
had formed, Cam found it impossible to dislodge it from his brain.
With an impatient curse under his breath, he flipped through the
remaining files.

The twelve other files contained much the
same information. The major difference was that Georgie wasn’t the
midwife present at the delivery. Out of the twelve, four deliveries
had been assisted by a nurse by the name of Jennifer Proctor.
Another three had been delivered by Nurse Olive Bardon. The
remaining five listed Julia Flowers as the midwife.

Interestingly, the night nurses on duty at
the time the babies died were smaller in number. Cam accepted that
in most professions where shift work was necessary, there were a
certain type of staff who preferred to work nights. The staff on
Ward Seven appeared to be no different. In almost all of the cases
where babies had died unexpectedly, two names consistently
appeared: Rosemary Lawson and Tammie Sinclair.

In itself, it wasn’t necessarily alarming.
Staff who preferred to work night shifts tended to work only those
shifts. It wasn’t unusual in itself to find the same two names
showing up on almost all of the reports. The women worked permanent
nights. The babies had all died in the early hours of the morning.
But, he needed to find out more about the nurses. He needed to
interview them and get a sense of them; find out what they had to
say.

Cameron thought about Georgie and not for
the first time wondered if it were wise for him to get involved
with a woman who could very well be a witness in his investigation.
At this point in time, he wasn’t sure if there would be an
investigation, but his gut was telling him something was definitely
off. Just like his gut instinct told him to believe Georgie had
nothing to do with it—whatever
it
was.

What he knew with certainty was that he
didn’t want to lose her. In all of his twenty-seven years and
countless women during that time, he’d never felt like he did with
her. The mood between them was so relaxed and comfortable, like
they’d known each other for years. She was sweet and kind and smart
and beautiful. And when they kissed…
Whoa!
The passion had
been instant and explosive. He couldn’t wait to kiss her again…and
more.

With a sigh, Cam went to close Cynthia’s
file. Josephine’s death certificate stared back at him. On a hunch,
he checked the other files for death certificates and discovered
that, though the names and dates were different, they’d all been
signed by Doctor Frederick Rolleston and like Josephine’s
certificate, the cause of death for each of them was the same:
Undetermined. Probable cause SIDS
.

Cam frowned. The same doctor had been on
duty each and every time. The likelihood of that happening seemed
highly improbable. Surely a hospital as large and busy as Sydney
Harbour had a number of obstetricians employed? And yet one man had
certified every single one of the unexplained infant deaths.

Staring at the papers in front of him, Cam’s
heart thumped. Dread trickled like icy tentacles through his veins.
Something strange was happening on Ward Seven of the Sydney Harbour
Hospital. He was sure of it. The only things he wasn’t certain of
was who was involved…and why.

Georgie returned to the ward with her heart
beating fast, intent on finding her mother and demanding some
answers, but one of the other nurses informed her Marjorie had left
for a meeting. Disappointed, Georgie did her best to keep her mind
off Cameron’s bombshell by spending extra time with the babies in
her care.

Most of them had been born weeks before they
were due. Premature birth was another common side effect of illicit
drug use during pregnancy. Some of the preemie babies had
difficulties feeding and that left both mother and baby tired and
irritable. One tiny infant, Nathan, was particularly upset. Georgie
glanced at his mom who lay groaning in her sleep, the recent track
marks up her arms, clear for all to see.

Bending over the crib, Georgie lifted Nathan
out of his bed and cuddled him close. A surge of protectiveness
rushed through her and for a few seconds, she was transported back
to the night, twelve years earlier, when for the tiniest amount of
time, she’d held her newborn son against her chest. The feeling
almost overwhelmed her and she closed her eyes against the pain.
Blinking furiously, she forced back hot tears.

The baby continued to fuss and squirm and
she switched positions. Lifting him over her shoulder, she patted
him on the back. Swaddled tightly for security and warmth, she
jiggled him gently up and down and murmured wordless sounds of
comfort. Scanning his chart, she noted he was due for a bottle. No
wonder he was irritable. With Nathan in her arms, she headed for
the milk room.

The bottles were all labeled with the name
of each baby’s mother and Georgie took care to check each label
closely. Although all of the bottle-fed babies were given the same
kind of formula, each infant had their own bottle. Locating
Nathan’s, she put it into the microwave and quickly warmed it. She
took a seat in one of the comfortable recliners in the back of the
room and coaxed Nathan with the teat.

The baby continued to fuss, even though his
mouth opened and closed in a desperate effort to grasp the teat.
Patiently, Georgie used her finger to ease the teat past his lips.
When he finally sucked it into his mouth and hungrily began to
feed, she was filled with a fierce surge of satisfaction. Relaxing
against the recliner, she closed her eyes and let the baby take his
fill.

The bottle was almost empty when Nathan
finally pulled away. A tiny bubble of milk remained on his rosebud
lips. His eyes drifted closed and within moments, he’d fallen
soundly asleep. Wriggling to the edge of the recliner, Georgie
stood and went over to the change table that had been conveniently
set up in one corner of the room.

Careful, so as not to wake him, she changed
Nathan’s diaper and then swaddled him with a wrap once again.
Babies suffering from withdrawal needed the comfort and security of
being held close and tight and the swaddling served this purpose
well, especially if Mom wasn’t well enough or interested in
cuddling. Georgie put the sleeping baby over her shoulder and was
gratified when he let out a little burp. Almost immediately, his
eyes closed once again in sleep. She smiled and her heart filled
with joy.

For years, she’d resisted her mother’s
urging to train as a midwife. Georgie was content to nurse sick
children. A part of her was afraid about how she’d react watching
other women give birth. The absolute joy of welcoming a baby into
the world; the indescribable hours of wondrous discovery and
bonding, surrounded by a halo of love. They were things Georgie had
been cheated of and she was sure she wouldn’t be able to cope
watching them happen for others.

Her mother kept telling her she was wrong,
that working in a maternity ward was exactly what she needed. When
Marjorie intimated that Georgie was afraid of becoming a midwife,
Georgie at last found the courage to apply for the course and prove
her mother wrong. And she hadn’t regretted her decision.

While it was heartbreaking to witness yet
another drug-addicted woman give birth, Georgie loved being
surrounded by babies. Each and every one of them was a special gift
from God and she couldn’t help but feel guilty over her decision to
give her son away.

Working on Ward Seven became her penance and
eased the turmoil in her soul. Over time, she came to love the
hours she spent there. She strove hard to ease the suffering of the
newborns and offered unconditional support and compassion to their
moms. She gave it her everything and took from it comfort and
satisfaction, knowing she’d done all she could to help.

She turned and headed toward the exit with
the sleeping baby snug in her arms. The door to the milk room
opened and Marjorie stood before her. At the sight of her mother,
Georgie’s heart skipped a beat.

“Here you are, Georgina. Julia told me you
were looking for me.”

Georgie’s heart picked up its pace. Now that
the moment of confrontation was upon her, she wasn’t sure she had
the courage to give voice to the questions that burned inside. A
sense of foreboding told her she wasn’t going to like the answers.
She stared at her mother with a steady gaze and knew she didn’t
have a choice. Her mother was in charge of Ward Seven. She had to
know what was going on.

“Yes, I… I needed to ask you some
questions.”

Her mom looked at her long and hard and
Georgie did her best not to squirm. It felt like Marjorie could see
right through her to the questions she dreaded to ask.

Or maybe Georgie was imagining the
tightness around her mother’s lips?
Maybe there was a perfectly
reasonable explanation about why fifteen babies had died on Ward
Seven shortly after delivery and why it was that Georgie was only
aware of three. There was only one way to know for sure. With her
courage in both hands, she took a deep breath and plunged in.

“Why didn’t you tell me about all the other
babies that have died in the past year? Each time a baby of mine
died, we talked about it, including the most recent death. Why
haven’t you ever said anything about the other twelve?”

Marjorie’s expression didn’t alter. Instead,
she closed the distance between them. Taking Georgie by the elbow,
she led her over to the recliner Georgie had so recently vacated
and then took a seat opposite.

“Who do you have there?” her mother asked
quietly, indicating the baby in Georgie’s arms.

“Nathan Reynolds.”

“Dolley Reynolds’ baby?”

“Yes.”

“How’s he doing?”

“Good, now. He’s been fussing all day, but
I’ve finally managed to get him to take almost all of a bottle and
he’s gone right off to sleep.”

Marjorie nodded and smiled. “You’re a
natural, Georgina. Perhaps now it’s time to give thought to having
one or two of your own?”

Georgie tensed. “I had a baby, Mom. You
forced me to give him up. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten?”

Her mother tut tutted. “You’re so dramatic,
Georgina! Of course I haven’t forgotten. As to forcing you…” She
laughed, but the humor failed to reach her eyes. Instead, her gaze
hardened. She stared at her daughter.

“Do you have any idea what your life would
have been like if I’d let you raise that child? You were barely
seventeen!
You hadn’t even finished high school! How do you
think you would have managed it? And as for college—as if that
would have ever happened if you’d had a child to support—there
would be no nursing degree, no degree of any kind! You’d be little
better than some of the patients who drag themselves in here!”

Georgie’s face flushed with anger. She
clenched her jaw tight. Nathan stirred against her and she was sure
he could feel her tension. “That’s not fair, Mom. I would have
found a way. You and Dad would have helped me. He was your
grandson, after all.”

Marjorie scoffed. “Ha! Don’t bet on it! Your
father was horrified you were pregnant. If you’d kept the child, he
would have cut off any financial support and cleared out your trust
fund. There would have been no help from that quarter.”

Georgie gasped in shock, staring at her
mother. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She’d come
seeking the truth about the babies on Ward Seven. Instead, her life
was unraveling before her eyes.

“It was fortunate things didn’t come to
that,” her mother continued in a conversational tone. “You saw
sense before I was forced to make enlighten you about your father’s
attitude, but don’t be mistaken, that threat was imminent and very
real. I knew your father. I knew he’d follow through and you’d be
forced to support yourself and your baby on your own. Your life as
you knew it would be over and you’d never achieve your dreams. I
didn’t want that for you. I loved you too much to let you make that
choice.”

Georgie shook her head in disbelief.
“
Love?
Is that what you call it?”

“It’s exactly what I call it. I loved you
then and I love you now, just like I love your sisters. You’re my
children. I’ll love you until I die.”

“Exactly.” Georgie stared at her mother with
a narrowed gaze and she could tell by the sudden widening of her
mother’s eyes the moment Marjorie understood. Georgie might have
been given only moments with her newborn son, but she’d love him
for the rest of her life.

“I… I don’t know what you want me to say,
Georgina.”

For the first time, Georgie saw fear and
uncertainty flood her mother’s face. Her voice, usually strong and
authoritative, had weakened to something much less.

“I want you to admit that my son existed;
that he still exists. I want you to acknowledge that maybe, just
maybe I would have been able to raise him on my own. I want you to
admit that you should have given me the chance to prove I could be
a mom…and I want you to say you’re sorry that you never gave me the
chance.”

Her mother shook her head slowly back and
forth, her forehead creased in a frown. “We can’t undo the past,
Georgina.”

Georgie sighed heavily. “No, but neither can
I pretend it never happened. I had a baby, Mom! I loved him with
everything that I had. Not a day goes by when I don’t think of him
and wonder how he is. A piece of me was stolen from me the day
those papers were signed. I can’t pretend any longer that I’ve
moved on, that I’m happy about what you did.”